


Crybaby

by LennysDiary



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Play, Americana, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bikers, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Caring Daddy, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Crimes & Criminals, Crying During Sex, Daddy Kink, Daddy/baby boy, Depictions Of Criminal Activity, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional During Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sensitivity, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hey Ex Cons Need Love Too, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Just threats of tickling or time-out, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mikky Ekko Fan, NO rape, No Incest, No Underage Sex, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Pop Culture, Roleplay, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sex Toys, Spoiled Baby, There Is No Slut Shaming In This House, Thumb-sucking, baby talk, ex cons, no pain though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2020-12-30 21:17:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 64,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LennysDiary/pseuds/LennysDiary
Summary: Brody is a tough, hardened ex con who’s not above using brute force and violence to get his point across, who seems like the kind of guy Ashton would normally avoid.But after valiantly–though maybe also kind of sadistically–rescuing Ashton from three homophobic jerks looking to pick a fight, Ashton starts to reconsider his stance on men like him, and maybe falls in love along the way.Because appearances are deceiving, and Brody might really be just the kind of man Ashton has been looking for.





	1. Advice

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This work is in no way affiliated or connected to the 1990 Johnny Depp movie of the same title, although it is briefly referenced in the fic.
> 
> Also there are some minor depictions of infantilism and age regression, but nothing that isn't covered in the above tags, or in any way conflicts with the tags. (Also this is _not_ a Daddy/Little fic)
> 
> However if you feel this work wasn't tagged properly or would like to suggest tags please feel free to comment because I want to make sure my readers get the most enjoyment out of my content.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A bar was decidedly the last place I would ever expect to find the man I’ve been looking for._
> 
> _Ironically, a bar is exactly where I’m going to first meet him though._

ASH-

My mom always told me you should never look for your soulmate in a bar. Because a bar is just _not_ the kind of place you’ll expect to find a lasting, meaningful relationship. Of course, when she was telling me this, I was still in the closet about my sexuality, and my mom was still under the impression I was into girls, would only ever be with a girl, and would one day marry a girl, therefore she tried to convince me I should not try to pick up _chicks_ at a bar.

But the reasoning still stood. “It’s the home of one night stands, sweetie,” she said to me. “Not marriage material. You bring a girl home from a bar, you throw her back afterwards, you don’t keep her.”

But I really didn’t get the whole “Don’t look for a meaningful relationship in a bar” advice until the very first time I brought home a guy I picked up in a singles bar.

Up until this point, my only steady relationship with a guy was my best friend in high school. We dated for six months before we broke up, and after I graduated I had a string of messy encounters and dorm room hook-ups throughout my college years before I just gave up on having a relationship with a guy. I’m not the kind of person who uses dating apps. I’m terrified of being cat-fished, and to me, dating apps take away the best part of a new relationship: getting to know them.

With a dating profile all the most crucial information is already there, and there’s no awkward conversation filled with all the typical “getting to know you” statements, like, “What do you do for a living?” “What are your passions?” “What do you like to do for fun?” That first dip into the dating pool is the best way to see if you have chemistry with someone, if you ask me. If you can plow your way through that first awkward conversation on the street, you can handle the next step.

Maybe–just maybe, mind you–I also believe in fate and chance encounters with that special someone that happen completely by accident and in no way by artificial design? But I will neither confirm nor deny that belief and simply say I fucking _hate_ dating and/or hook-up apps and websites. So the very first time a friend took me to a gay bar because I was lonely and in desperate need of companionship, I understood perfectly what my mother meant.

Not that there is anything wrong with hooking up with someone you met in a bar, and this is not to say there’s anything wrong with drinking establishments themselves. It’s just that the very first time I walked into Vice, paid the entrance fee, and wore a bracelet that indicated to the bartenders that I’m old enough to consume alcohol, I was given a taste of true hook-up culture. Bars and nightclubs truly are the breeding ground of drunken one night stands and awkward morning afters.

So I’d never had sex before then. Or, at least, what I would consider sex, as in full on penetration. Up to this point I’d had and given a few blow jobs and hand jobs here and there, and became intimately familiar with another person’s penis in terms of grinding up against it, both with and without clothes on, but I’d never been penetrated, nor did I ever stick mine in any other guy’s back door. That was what I wanted more than anything. To lose my virginity that night.

So the guy was great. Our conversation was great. We drank, we talked, we danced, and we went home together. He was very sweet. Most importantly, he was responsible, and had no qualms whatsoever with using a condom. From start to finish the evening had been what I would consider spectacular for a random hook-up with a somewhat total stranger. But the sex itself got…_weird_. I’m a chronic masturbator, and I was fully prepped that night.

After some steamy foreplay I was ready to go, so needless to say things _started out_ well, but…

Well, it didn’t hurt, but it was very intense of a feeling, so intense that I…

I _cried_.

Now I’ve heard of this happening to women, and even some other men, that it’s possible to have so intense of an orgasm that you burst into tears, and sometimes you get so emotional after sex that you cry for that reason as well. Maybe you’re with someone you love wholeheartedly and share such a deep emotional connection with that sex feels amazing with them too and you’re overwhelmed by such an intense feeling…But this was nothing like that. Nothing like that at all.

It was just that the second he entered me and started thrusting, I burst into tears, because it just felt so _good_, and I was so overwhelmed by the pleasurable feeling I got from bottoming. It was like I was finally whole and complete and the emotions started pouring out of me, which totally freaked out the guy I was with and he stopped moving. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed. “Oh my god, are you _crying_?!” Then he started to pull out of me. Suddenly I didn’t feel so good anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I-I’m so sorry, I just…It feels good and I…I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

But he was looking at me like I’d grown an extra head, eyes wide, brow quirked and lip curled upward just slightly, like the freak I apparently was. “Uh, I’m sorry, but like this is–this is just too weird,” he said. Then he grimaced. “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to leave. This just isn’t doing it for me.” He got up, got dressed, which made me feel ten times worse than I already felt, and then he left my apartment. I curled up in a ball, hugging my pillow tight, now sobbing because he left me.

I felt so alone, and so much like a freak. I was a grown man, in my early twenties at the time, and I was crying into my pillow because a guy left me, because I _cried during sex_.

But then I understood why my mother suggested I don’t look for meaningful relationships in random hook-ups at nightclubs.

Since then I have navigated the dating pool much more smoothly, but I still have trouble finding a guy, though for much different reasons. The list of issues is a mile long. Of course, on occasion, the fact that I cry when I’m penetrated is still one of those issues. But I just can’t seem to find the right one. Though I have had no expectations of finding him in a bar. None whatsoever. A bar was decidedly the _last_ place I would ever expect to find the man I’ve been looking for.

Ironically, a bar is _exactly_ where I’m going to first meet him though.

Matter of fact, I’m just coming out of one tonight, after an excruciatingly long day, followed up by some much needed drinks with a few of my friends. It’s Tuesday night, which means it’s been a slow night, but drinks are half priced on Tuesday. I’ve had a couple. But I’m not belligerently intoxicated, and I don’t live too terribly far from the club, plus it’s a nice night, so I think to myself that I’ll just make the long walk home to clear my head instead of calling a cab.

Things didn’t exactly go as planned for me, but my friends on the other hand all hooked up with other people and left hours ago. I stuck around just dancing under the strobe lights with any random body that just so happened to be there until finally I just couldn’t keep my head on straight and needed some air. So now I’m walking out of the club alone, glancing around, and just starting down the sidewalk when I spot some guys across the street out of the corner of my eye.

I don’t think anything of it at first. They’re just random people, hanging around parked cars across the street, talking, smoking, not that unusual of a thing to see really. But they meet my eyes when I glance their way. They’ve been watching the entrance of the club, waiting for someone to walk out of it. I take off down the path at a casual pace, but something about the situation has me on alert, despite how much I’ve had to drink and how warm and fuzzy I feel.

I turn my head to look back and see they’re crossing the street, and I think, ‘Okay, no big deal, they’re just crossing the street to get wherever they’re going, right?’ So I continue walking, hands shoved in the pockets of my blazer, bunching up in the sudden chill in the air. I’m just starting to sober up a little, that’s all. Nothing off about this situation. But I look back again, and I see that the guys across the street are now walking behind me, and I don’t like the look in their eyes.

I speed up, and so do they. My heart starts pounding. I look back one last time to see them gaining on me, so I break into a sprint. They run after me. I’m completely sober now as I realize what’s happening. Either I’m going to be mugged, or I’m going to be the victim of a hate crime. I’m too scared to think rationally, so the thought of reaching for my phone to dial 911 doesn’t even cross my mind. I just run. Run and keep running as fast as I can.

I hear them behind me, feet splashing in the puddles I dodge from where it rained this morning. I run to the end of the block and turn right, hoping to find a store that’s still open to take refuge in, thinking surely these guys wouldn’t be dumb enough to beat somebody up in front of witnesses that could I.D. their faces to the cops. Or maybe I could escape them, they won’t see which way I ran and I can just hide inside the store and wait until they’re gone. But I don’t find a store.

Instead I find another bar. I see a sign that reads, “Must Be 21 To Enter,” and another flashing red with neon lights blinking the word, “Open.” I dart inside. I don’t realize what kind of bar this is until I’m already halfway in, and I stop to look around. For a moment I wonder if I’ve just made a huge mistake and entered the type of place with far worse people than the ones outside because the inside looks like a biker bar. You know those types of places? With the string of motorcycles out front?

Well, they’re weren’t any motorcycles out front, but the inside is hazy with cigarette smoke, there’s rock music playing in the background and only maybe a handful of patrons this late at night, but they’re the types of guys someone like me would do well to avoid. There’s a crowd of them around a pool table at the far end of the room, and one at the bar. There’s a woman behind the counter wearing a low-cut top, and her make-up is slightly running under her tired eyes.

It could have been any type of place I wandered into really, but you know how I can tell it’s a place I’d like to avoid?

The second people notice me they get quiet.

They stare, and their expressions aren’t the friendly kind.

But the one that gets my immediate attention is the guy sitting at the bar, five feet from me, leaning back and turning slightly in his stool to look me up and down. I think my heart just stopped.

Yeah, it’s him, I just don’t know it yet.

All I know is that my palms are sweaty just looking at him. He’s tall, and every inch of him is muscle. He wears a black button down partially open to reveal a white undershirt beneath it. Faded blue jeans with little rips and tears. What might be a Black Label Society wallet, black leather with a thick chain connecting it to his belt. Black motorcycle boots and everything about him screams trouble. If that’s not enough, then the amount of tattoos covering his body would be.

I mean he’s _covered_. They snake down his arms, I can see them as his sleeves are slightly pushed up, and they even cover his neck as well, all the way up to his jaw and just behind his ears, like it’s all one upper body tattoo made up of various images. There are rings on his fingers too. They’re what you would expect, thick silver bands, one of them even has a skull. My eyes briefly catch sight of them as he pulls the lit cigarette from his mouth and looks me over.

He’s got jet black hair styled in an undercut, and it looks good on him, with the back and sides shaved, but the top slicked straight back. Little diamond studs in his ears. Clean shaven, revealing a strong jaw, and his age which is maybe thirty, and full lips that pinch in a scowl as his eyes roam over me. He’s the _definition_ of smoldering. But even at the same time I want to crawl in his lap, grind against him, and whimper, “Fuck me, Daddy,” I also want to run screaming from him.

His hazel eyes are demonic with the cold blank look he’s giving me, and his jaw flexes a little.

I realize I’ve been making eye contact far longer than what is probably considered socially acceptable, and I panic, looking away, heart pounding in my chest. I quickly move on, headed to the nearest empty booth to hide and wait it out, avoiding making eye contact with anyone else, thinking maybe the guys that were chasing me didn’t see which way I ran and gave up in their pursuit. But I was wrong. Just as I sit down I hear the entrance swing open, and the phrase, “There he is!”

Shit. They found me, and I highly doubt anyone in this establishment is going to lift a finger to help me fend off these homophobic assholes. I’m quite certain that’s why they followed me. They saw me walk out of a club that is well known in this town for being a gay bar. It’s no big secret, and the fact that I was alone and on foot, walking down the deserted sidewalk late at night with no witnesses nearby, meant I was the perfect target for their harassment.

I should have called a cab.

I really regret my life decisions right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly:
> 
> [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	2. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I shoulda known he was gonna be trouble the minute he walked in._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are y'all ready for this?
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Who Are You, Really?"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=vMMbeaJV4HM&feature=share)

BRODY-

I shoulda known he was gonna be trouble the minute he walked in.

I was already havin’ a bad day to begin with. Had to replace the engine block on an ‘83 Cadillac, and that shit ain’t easy. I was exhausted when I left the shop earlier, showered and then headed over to wind down. I’m still tired. So I ain’t exactly been in the highest of spirits tonight. Already came _this close_ to stabbin’ someone. He wouldn’t quit fuckin’ with Sandy, the lady runnin’ the bar. Kept leanin’ over the counter tryna grab her tits, like he thinks it’s a strip joint, so I had to throw him out.

I’m obviously not the most peaceful person, but hey, the way I see it, better to have me beside you than against you. But no I haven’t been in a particularly good mood tonight, and I’m startin’ to wonder why I even went out, and didn’t just stay home, curl up in bed, and just pass the fuck out. But when Del asks me to come out, I go out. I have a hard time tellin’ him no. See, Del he’s my best friend. He’s dumb as hell, but I don’t know what I’d do without him. He keeps me sane.

That’s him standin’ by the pool table gettin’ his ass kicked, ‘cause he can’t play for shit. The young blonde wearin’ a denim vest over his t-shirt, in desperate need of a shave? You see him? Yeah that’s him. I’ve known him since we were little kids. His daddy was a member of the Pagans, so even though he ain’t in their club, they all look out for him. Axel, the old man with the scar on his face that he’s playin’ against, is his uncle. He’s an actual member of the club, has been for twenty years.

They all put up with me for two reasons: One, because of Del, and two, they know that if they ever fucked with me, there’s only one place I’m goin’ and it ain’t back to prison. So all of us have a mutual understanding. We don’t mess with each other. We look out for each other, and we look out for people like Sandy that ain’t got no one else to watch their back. But tonight, I don’t feel like bein’ all that sociable, which is why I’m sittin’ on the bar stool, keeping to myself.

Del has been a particular ass tonight too, more so than usual for him, and gettin’ on my last damned nerve. I love him to death like my own flesh and blood, but sometimes he gets so irritating I just wanna slap him upside the head, and tonight has been one of those nights. The beer I’ve been nursing has gotten warm and I’m just about to ask Sandy for a fresh one when I hear the door swing open and see this cute little thing stumble in. My heart makes a thud when I see him.

Oh he’s a pretty little baby, with big blue eyes that are wide like he’s seen a ghost, with these long fluttery lashes, but it’s the freckles that reel me in, hook line and sinker. They’re all over his cheeks and nose, and I just wanna taste every single one of ‘em. He’s pale, got that smooth porcelain skin, light reddish brown hair that’s parted on the side, and though I’m sure he’s over twenty-one, he’s got this rounded edge to all his corners that makes him look like he’s maybe only fifteen still.

Fuck he’s beautiful, and I bet that pretty mouth of his would feel soft as velvet around my dick. He’s got on a tight shirt, the collar is popped a little on his denim jacket, and the sleeves are pushed up like a lot of guys are doin’ these days. Pants are tight too, showin’ off that ass, and with those shoes? I’m thinkin’, ‘Oh this boy is gay as hell.’ What the fuck is he doing here, in a place like this? But I’m caught, from the minute I see him, and I’m truly, deeply, madly in love at first sight of this kid.

He’s just the kind of toy I’d like to tie up and play with for hours at a time. Make sweet, slow love to all night long, cook him breakfast in the mornin’, cuddle all day in bed. Buy him anything and everything he wants, spoil him fuckin’ rotten. My jaw clenches so tightly when I imagine it that I think I heard my teeth crack just now. Oh I wanna fuck this boy’s brains out. Badly. But it comes as no surprise that he’s scared of me. A guy like him? In a place like this? Don’t surprise me at all.

But what confuses me is that he was _already_ scared the minute he burst through the door, glancing back behind him, before he stopped dead in his tracks once he realized where he was. Lookin’ like he was runnin’ from somethin’. Or somebody maybe. He averts those beautiful eyes and walks past me, headed to the nearest booth and slides in, all the way across the seat, close to the wall. He hides his face and avoids looking at anything or anyone, then the door opens again.

Now I see why he’s so scared. Three men of similar age wander in and look around. They’re fuckin’ punks too, lookin’ like the kind of boys you’d see hangin’ around on some street corner, dealing drugs. Got their flat billed hats on sideways, baggy pants hangin’ off their asses, and shirts three sizes too big. I’ll say one thing, boys like that don’t belong in here either, and I don’t like the look of ‘em. Neither does anyone else. I see Del across the room pause in his game and grip his pool stick.

Like I said, I shoulda known there was gonna be trouble.

They march straight up to the boy sittin’ in the booth with hard looks in their eyes. I know that whatever is about to happen, it ain’t gonna be good, so I stamp out my cigarette and start rollin’ up my sleeves. I watch ‘em like a hawk as I do. One of them, guess he’s the ring leader or somethin’, decides to grab that boy by his arm and rip him out of his seat then shove on his chest, and at this point I know there’s gonna be a fight. “Sandy, get me a cold one, baby doll.” She nods.

I stand up, snatch my warm, half empty beer off the counter, and Del spots me headin’ their way, just as they’re crowdin’ around the boy, keeping him boxed in like a caged animal. He’s pissed though. Still kinda scared, but ready to defend himself if he has to. But even if he _could_ defend himself, he ain’t gonna stand a chance three against one. “Why you hidin’, huh, _fagboy_?” One of them taunts and they laugh at him. “Whatchya scared for? Huh? Why’d ya run away, _faggot_?”

They’re pushin’ him around and he tries to push back, sayin’, “Leave me alone!” But a lot of good that does. So I grip the half empty beer bottle by the neck and I swing, cracking the closest one in the back of the head with it, and it shatters, splashing beer and broken bits of glass everywhere. I cold clock the next one and he goes down too, but the third I have trouble with. He tries to deck me, but while I saw it coming and grab his hand, when I go to hit him it don’t quite connect just right.

We grapple for a second before I get my hand around his neck and squeeze as I pick him up, pivot, and then slam him down on the pool table behind me. He’s struggling, both hands gripping mine tryna break free, but he’s not in any position to overpower me now, and the more he struggles the harder I choke him. Ever seen boa constrictors? Ever watched one kill? Seen that shit on Animal Planet once. It’s kind of interesting, the way their prey jerks and they wrap tighter around it.

He kinda looks like that bug eyed rat right about now.

But don’t worry, I ain’t gonna choke him to death. Around me the boys are watchin’, and this one’s friends are startin’ to rouse a little from where they were rollin’ on the floor half out of it. But they don’t move. They ain’t gonna do shit, not with four guys standin’ around watchin’ ‘em closely, pullin’ out knives and brass knuckles, one of ‘em with a gun under his shirt. “Axel, gimme your cigar,” I say, staring coldly at the one I’m choking, and Axel leans over the table to hand me the cigar.

I take a puff off of it before I put it out on his neck and he screams. Behind me, his friends are cursing shakily under their breath and I think they might’ve just pissed themselves too. I hold out the cigar and Axel takes it back from me, then I reach in my pocket for my switch blade. Now his eyes are really buggin’ out of his head as I flip it open and hold it a fraction of an inch from his left one. “What’s the matter, homeboy? Whatchya scared for, huh? Thought you wanted to fight someone.”

“I…I-I don’t want no trouble,” he chokes out frantically.

“Oh you don’t? Fancy that. Here I thought you were so tough. Thought maybe you wanted to play with the big boys.” I lean in closer to his face. “You know somethin’, I don’t particularly like you. There’s only one thing I’d like to do with boys like you.” I get close up to his ear. “You wanna know what it is? I’ll tell you. I like to leave a good an’ _lastin_’ impression on boys like you.” I take my knife and start to cut his shirt open. “What say I carve my name in your chest, to remember me by?”

He’s squirming, the boys are chuckling at him, and behind me I hear a gasp. I flip the knife and point it at his bare chest.

“Oh my god!” I hear the pretty boy squeak. “Wait! Wait, please! Please don’t do that!” I turn to look and see that’s he’s shaking, absolutely terrified. Maybe even tearin’ up a little. Poor baby don’t like violence of any kind, does he? Not even against the bad people tryna hurt him. I think seein’ such things has freaked him out a little and he can’t handle it. Even if they deserve it. “Please just…just let him go. I-I think he’s learned his lesson.” He glances around. “I think they all have.”

I glance back behind me and see homeboy’s friends are nearly shittin’ themselves ‘cause they think they’re next. Yeah, I suppose I got my point across. I tap the side of his face with the flat of my blade. “Saved by the bell,” I quip, and let him up, shoving him away and he trips over himself. “Come near him again and I’ll slit your goddamn throat,” I threaten as he stumbles away, clutching his neck where I burned him. Both his friends stare at me like they’ve arrived at the gates of hell.

“You boys better run before I change my mind,” I say and they start to scatter. “And don’t come back!” I call after ‘em. When they leave I see Sandy come out from behind the bar with a broom, dustpan, and fresh beer for me, towel slung over her shoulder.

I put my knife away. She hands me the beer and I take a drink. “Got somebody you can call to pick you up?” I ask the boy, and he nods a little. “Won’t you have a seat,” I tell him. “Wait around a little while before you leave, in case those punks are still outside. Ain’t nobody gonna bother you in here.”

“Why was they chasin’ you anyhow?” Del asks. See, I told you he’s dumb.

“T-they followed me from…from a…another bar,” he says, warily, wringing his hands, and starin’ at all of us like we’re ready to pounce on him next. Del looks up like a light bulb just turned on in his head. He smirks a little.

“Only other bar in this neighborhood is a _gay_ bar,” he says, then he looks to me, grinnin’ like the Cheshire cat. “Ya hear that, Brody? Boy really is a fag,” he says, waggling his brows at me. I roll my eyes a little. _Dammit Del, don’t rub it my face like that_, I think. I don’t need the temptation. Hell, I probably ain’t even his type. He probably likes those effeminate men with their biodegradable cups and fuckin’ audiobooks from Amazon. That guy just ain’t me, sadly.

“Del,” I warn, scowling. He snickers at me, but he ducks his head a little sheepishly. The boy looks worried, ‘cause Del just called him a fag. He don’t know Del’s just an ignorant fuckin’ weasel that don’t have no common sense. “_Be polite_.”

Del shrugs a little. “Sorry,” he says to him. “But you really are gay though, huh?” He chuckles. “Oh hell, ain’t none of us care. We’ve all been to prison, ain’t we boys?” he says just a little too suggestively then laughs when his eyes widen fearfully, and so do they. Jesse’s over in the corner just rollin’ his eyes and shakin’ his head at Del. Bunch of assholes. 

I shake my head at all of them and turn back to the boy. “Just ignore them. They don’t mean no harm.” I turn to Sandy, who just finished cleanin’ up the mess I made. “Sandy, get the kid whatever he wants. Put it on my tab.”

“Sure thing,” she smiles, and walks away. I head back to the counter, intending on parking my ass right there, and stayin’ there. I hear the boys gather back around the pool table and Del call after me.

“Oooh, I think somebody’s in loooove!”

“Del!”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

I roll my eyes when I hear him laugh.

But he might be right, ‘cause every time I look at that boy, with his big watery eyes, somethin’ tugs on my heartstrings.

Hell, I’m fucked, ain’t I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly:
> 
> [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	3. Conviction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m kind of on this mental kick of, ‘Just do whatever they tell you and you won’t die.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["Harder To Breathe"–Maroon 5](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=Back4okF0Yg&feature=share)

ASH-

I think I’m in shock. Because the only thing I can do is sit, frozen, and stare at my phone sitting on the table in front of me. I just sent my sister a text asking if she could come get me, then text my location after I looked it up on my phone. Now I’m just sitting and staring at my phone because I don’t know what else to do. The bartender, Sandy, comes over to me, smiles and says, “What can I get ya, sweetie? You wanna beer? Got all kinda liquor back there too. I can mix ya up somethin’.”

Eh, I’m kind of sick of mixed/fruity drinks honestly. Everybody’s always buying me one, and while they’re great, I’m kind of losing my taste for them. I kind of like beer too, actually. Certain brands. Makes me think of my twenty-first birthday when dad came out on the porch with two Heinekens and handed me one, saying, “You don’t have to drink it, but I figured since you’re legal now, I thought we’d have your first beer together.” I smiled, clinked the bottle with his, and drank it with him.

I gaze up at Sandy. She seems nice. “Uh, beer is fine,” I mumble with a half smile, just loud enough to be heard. “Heineken.”

“You got it, baby,” she winks, then walks away.

That’s been my only interaction with anyone so far. Everyone else has gone back to what they’re doing, sitting around, drinking and talking, or playing pool. But they don’t acknowledge my existence, which is a relief. They just act like I’m not even here, and nothing happened whatsoever. When Sandy comes back with an open bottle of Heineken I guzzle half of it down the first drink, so hopefully I’ll stop shaking. I can’t stop thinking about what I saw. Like, it was just so fucking _brutal_.

Unbelievable too. I mean, this night _definitely_ didn’t go the direction I thought it would. I really wasn’t expecting that guy to just come out of nowhere and bust a beer bottle over one of their heads, then proceed to beat the shit out of them and even go so far as to _put out a lit cigar_ on one of them. All with the calm, cold calculation of a ritualistic, psychopathic serial killer. Like, holy cow, that was intense! Who is this guy?! Hannibal Lector?! But I didn’t expect anyone to defend me.

I didn’t expect their easy going laughter after they realized I am actually gay either. It’s like they don’t really care. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m not dressed in drag wearing make-up, nor am I a complete diva. Much less am I coming on to any of them, so they don’t mind me at all. Or it could be that they’re low-key intimidated by the psycho one of them called Brody, and he’s okay with me. Or, and most likely, they’re all just rip roaring drunk. I don’t really know.

But I’m still nervous being around them, and hope my sister gets here soon.

She’s the only person I know with a car that would come pick me up anywhere, anytime, at the drop of a hat, no questions asked. She’s my best friend. I think it’s crazy sometimes how we’ve managed to be such good friends, despite being siblings, and despite going to different colleges after we graduated high school. But she was the first person to discover that I’m gay. She walked in on me browsing pictures of shirtless men on the internet, and no joke, she squealed.

“Oh my god you’re gay, aren’t you?” she trilled excitedly, bouncing up and down. Before I could even think to deny it, she was like, “Oh this is like so awesome! It’s almost like I have a sister! We can talk about boys together and everything!” I was shocked that she was okay with it, and couldn’t help but laugh when she proceeded to go on a tangent, flopped down on my bed, flipped her hair and said, “Okay so you know how there’s that one guy at school that keeps flirting with Tessa?…”

We talked for hours that day. We talk about everything. Every day there’s something, and any time I have a problem, I call Stephanie. But I check to see if she saw my message. She hasn’t yet. Then I check the time on my phone. It’s 2 AM. She might still be awake, and just hasn’t checked her phone yet, but I don’t know. I’m surprised this place is still open. Most would be closed by now, but I guess Sandy, the bartender, can keep it open as late as she wants, so she keeps it open for them.

Every once in a while I sneak a glance at the guy sitting at the counter. Brody. He’s still here, still hunched over and resting his forearms on the countertop, nursing a beer. His expression never wavers. It’s just continuously blank, like he feels no emotion whatsoever. But then I see him blink, and slide his eyes to me, like he _felt_ me staring at him, and I quickly look away. Maybe he’ll just think I’m wary of him, and won’t suspect I’m kind of, sort of, crushing on him.

I’m brushing my bangs from my eyes with my fingers and just trying to play it cool when one of the others, the one he called Del, approaches me. “Ya wanna play some pool?” he asks me, pointing to the table, and I blink rapidly. Uh, okay then. I’m kind of on this mental kick of, ‘Just do whatever they tell you and you won’t die.’ So I nod a little and rise from my seat, pocketing my phone, carrying my drink with me. I haven’t played pool in years. Not since the arcade back in junior high.

I used to go all the time, but the arcade closed down several years ago, and the only places I know of that have things like pool tables and dart boards are places like this. Places I usually avoid. But I watch Del wrack the table, and all throughout the others are watching me. They’re an interesting group of guys, to say the least about them. They make me think of that movie with Charlie Sheen. What was it called? I don’t remember, but it had bikers in it. It was about an outlaw motorcycle group.

Yeah these guys are giving me some serious Hell’s Angels vibes right now.

One of them even has a facial scar, and I would bet my life he got it in a knife fight. I try not to stare at anything but the table though, as Del sets the cue ball, lines up his shot and breaks. The balls scatter across the table and one actually goes in. Looks like I’m stripes. For any of you that don’t know how to play, there are stripes and solids, and whoever lands the first shot shoots whatever color goes in on their next shot, and it alternates between striped and solid colored numbers.

I grip my pool stick tight in hand as I study the table, then move to make my first shot. Surprisingly it goes in. “Oh, looks like we got ourselves a pool shark,” Del comments, and I smirk, shaking my head in denial.

“Luck. Pure and simple,” I say, and he chuckles. “I haven’t played in years.”

He jerks his head upward in a nod. “Yeah, okay then.” He says it like he doesn’t believe me. But I move around the table to make my second shot. That’s how it’s played. If you sink one in, you get to make the next shot. If not, it’s their turn. You keep going until you miss or they’re all gone and then try to sink the eight ball. Whoever makes it in wins the game. I notice there’s no money on the table though, and he didn’t say anything about playing for money, so I don’t care if I lose.

I have nothing to lose but my pride, I guess. I take the shot, but I miss, and the guys all hang their heads, mocking disappointment, like they’re betting on me. Del gets smug again, and moves to make his next shot. We play for a little while before anybody talks again. “What’s your name, kid?” Del asks me. Name? Oh, right, my name.

“Ashton,” I say.

“I’m Del,” he tells me. “That’s Axel,” he points to the guy with the frightening scar on his face, and he nods a little, holding up his beer in salute. “He’s my uncle. And that’s Skip,” Del says next, pointing to the guy in the corner who’s maybe in his early forties, with long hair in a low ponytail and a beard, wearing a worn, faded leather jacket and puffing on a cigarette. “This here’s Jesse,” he points to the younger guy leaning against the wall behind Axel. “And you met Brody.”

He nods to the guy at the bar, who just so happens to look our way when Del speaks. He just lights another cigarette and looks away though, hardly paying any attention to us, and he’s out of earshot anyway. I turn back to the table and see that it’s my shot again, so I move around until I’m lined up, lean over the table and make my shot. “So, like, all of you guys were really in prison?” I ask, because I can’t think of anything else to talk about. All of them nod. Wow.

“But like, what for? If…if you don’t mind me asking?”

Del grins. “Arson,” he says, jerking a thumb at himself, sounding almost like he’s proud of it.

“Credit card fraud,” Jesse answers, then sips on his beer.

“Distribution of narcotics,” Axel deadpans. Then glances back at Skip. “Him too.”

“Bull fuckin’ shit,” Skip denies. “Them drugs weren’t even mine.”

“They were in your car.”

“They was _planted_, goddamn it.”

“Oh yeah? They was planted was they? What’d the judge tell ya when ya said they weren’t yours?”

Skip shrugs a little, scratching his head. “Well, she mighta believed me, right up until I called her cunt, anyhow. Probably shouldn’t’ve said that, I suppose.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Axel quips.

I don’t know why I think that’s funny, but maybe I’m just in shock still, because I chuckle a little at their banter. But so does Skip. Axel just narrows his eyes at him, and mutters under his breath like he thinks Skip is ridiculous. I wonder why they call him that. I watch Del lean over the table to make his shot, then glance back at Brody on the other side of the bar. “What about him?” I can’t help but ask, and Del looks up, totally missing his shot. He stands up straight and leans on his pool stick.

“Attempted murder.”

Wow.

“Did…did he do it?”

“Oh he did it,” Del nods. “But he claimed it was in self defense. Pleaded ‘not guilty’, swore up and down the guy attacked him first. Was tryna kill him. He was just takin’ up for himself. But he couldn’t say why he was attacked, what the fight was even about, and there weren’t no witnesses. No evidence. Just Brody’s word against his. Stories didn’t match neither, and the judge and jury took one look at him and decided he was guilty. Locked him up for ten years in the state penitentiary.”

Holy shit.

Like, seriously. This guy did _ten years_ behind bars? No wonder he’s psycho.

Del looks as me as I’m looking at Brody and says, “Ya ain’t gotta be scared of ‘em or nothin’. It ain’t like that. He just kinda ain’t right in the head, that’s all. Prison kinda fucked him up. But he ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m fairly certain he _likes_ you, actually.” I turn to catch the tail end of Del’s smirk before he looks away. Likes me? As in, ‘Hey let’s be friends’? Or does he mean it in the creepy way it sounds when he says it, like when a guy tells you he ‘likes’ you in prison?

Like, he’s not going to try and corner me in the bathroom and rape me or something, is he?

He’s not actually that kind of guy, right? I mean, it would be a bit redundant to try to force me, because I’m pretty sure if he cornered me in the men’s room and told me to drop to my knees and suck his dick, I totally would. Just saying. But I’m kind of still caught up in the whole ‘attempted murder’ thing. I don’t know, I kind of believe he might be innocent, actually. Like, maybe he really was just defending himself. He was certainly willing to come to my defence with those assholes.

Even if his methods were a bit extreme. But I am so overly curious of this guy right now that I’m almost disappointed when I spot a blonde head of hair near the entrance and see that Stephanie’s here, which means I have to leave now. I’m relieved that she got my message, but I almost want to roll my eyes when I see her. If her shorts were any shorter than they are now, they wouldn’t be shorts at all, just napkins made of denim, and her shirt is barely more than just walking around in a bra.

So of course the guys are going to drool at her, whistling and cat calling, but she smirks a little because she likes the attention. She does it on purpose. She dresses like a slut because she needs the validation, but you know what, this might sound crazy, but my sister is gorgeous, and if I were her, I would dress like a slut too and flex what God gave me. She waltzes up to me in her black stilettos with a smile. “Well hello darlin’,” Del coos at her, probably mentally stripping her naked.

Not as if he has much to remove though.

“Hey,” she smiles coyly, and waves at him, wiggling her fingers, then she slowly brushes her hair over one shoulder flirtatiously. Oh how lovely, the feeling’s mutual. They’ll get married, have ten kids, and I will forever be tied through mutual friends to a group of aggressive, hedonistic sociopaths. I can imagine the family Christmas card. If my body turns up in the river some day, we’ll know who to blame. She turns to me, and places her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I nod, then I figure why not introduce everyone. “Steph, this is Del, Axel, Skip, and Jesse. Everybody, this is my sister, Stephanie.” There’s a chorus of heys, winks, roaming eyes and grins, that are in no way platonic. Every single one of these guys is eye-fucking my sister right now, I just know it. But she smiles at them, maybe a bit nervously because they’re all some pretty dangerous looking men. Then Del clears his throat, getting serious. If he had a hat, he’d take it off.

“Ma’am, I’d just like ta say that you are the most _beautiful_ goddamn woman I have _ever_ fuckin’ laid eyes on, and _goddamn_ I’d like to bend you over a table.”

Way to sell yourself there, sport.

Oblivious to the lewdness of his statement, Stephanie just smiles, presses her hand to her chest, and says, “Awe, you’re so sweet! Thank you!” God she’s so vapid. She’ll take a compliment from anyone, regardless of the nature of it. If she hears anything even remotely resembling the words ‘you’re pretty’ she eats it up like candy. But it’s part of her charm though. I love her regardless. But I think Del is seriously in love with her now too. “Are you ready to go?” she chirps, and I nod.

Everybody groans, because I’m taking the eye candy with me. “It was nice talking to you guys,” I say, and there’s a chorus of farewells to follow. Stephanie takes her baby steps in her heels, tail swishing, and if these guys were dogs their tongues would be hanging out. She walks ahead of me and exits first, door swinging, but I pause and turn back. I hesitantly approach Brody and lean against the counter. He glances up at me, pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

“You’re Brody, right?” He nods, blinking slowly. “Uhm, I uh…I just wanted to say thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, then puffs on his cigarette.

“I’m Ashton, by the way. It was nice to meet you. Uh, maybe I’ll see you around. I could, I don’t know, maybe buy you a drink sometime, you know, to pay you back, and say thank you.”

Unbelievably he actually smiles just a little. Just a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Alright,” he slowly drawls, eyes passing over me again. I smile and turn to leave, headed to the door. When my hand is on the latch I turn back one last time. I just catch the tail end of his eyes coming up to meet mine from where they’ve been wandering over me, before I leave the bar for good. Maybe he was checking me out. Maybe he’s just trying to _figure_ me out, like he finds me odd.

Maybe I’m just imagining things and this whole night was a dream I’ll soon wake from.

But those eyes will haunt me though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	4. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Time is somethin’ I think a lot of people take for granted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, probably should've tagged this for slow build. My bad.
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Clocks"–Coldplay](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=8Xv_Hg8o1fw&feature=share)

BRODY-

I’m still thinkin’ about him, long after he’s gone, and Sandy closes the bar, then as we all leave out the back entrance, and she turns to lock it behind us. As Axel starts his bike, Skip and Jesse follow Sandy to her car and hop in, and Del and I are walkin’ to his truck. In my mind I’m still seein’ those eyes and that pretty little mouth, thinkin’ he ain’t gonna go away any time soon. I’m stuck with him now, his face, his eyes, and everything else, like permanent ink stained on my conscience.

Ashton, he said his name was.

A pretty little baby named Ashton.

_Ashton, Ashton, Ashton…_

I shake my head a little to clear my thoughts as I’m climbin’ in the passenger’s seat of Del’s truck, then he gets in, but he doesn’t start the engine. Just kinda looks sideways at me, like he’s thinkin’ of somethin’. “What?” I ask. He huffs at me.

“Don’t you ‘what’ me, you know what.”

“No, I don’t know, actually. So you gonna fuckin’ tell me? Or _what_?”

“Don’t you start with me, man,” he says. “And don’t act all innocent like you don’t know. I _seen_ the way you was starin’ at him. Why ain’tchya just go talk to him? What’s wrong whichya?”

I growl a little in frustration, then reach for my cigarettes. I’m down to my last one, but I don’t care. I light it anyway and crank the window open. “Goddamn it, Del,” I curse, rubbin’ my eyes. Man I’m fuckin’ tired. “Just start the fuckin’ truck, please.”

Del scowls at me still, but then he starts the truck and pulls out of the back lot and onto the road ahead. He drives me outside city limits, to my house, and we’re mostly silent throughout, until about halfway there he opens his stupid fuckin’ mouth again. “What’s goin’ on with you?” he asks me. “Seriously, what’s wrong? ‘Cause you been a fuckin’ dickhead all goddamn day. You better start talkin’. I mean it. You know if you don’t you’ll just go crazy, like you almost did last time.”

_Last time_.

He’s referring to when I first told him I’m gay, after I got out of prison. He’s right too, I did drive myself crazy with nobody to talk to about that shit. I was cold to a lot of people when I first got out, I didn’t want nobody botherin’ me, and the things I liked to do when I was younger, I just couldn’t stand anymore. I didn’t know how to act around all my old friends either, and everything was different, so I just locked myself back up, but instead of in a prison cell, it was my house.

See, prison kind of changed me. I wasn’t the same afterwards. The thing is, on the outside, you don’t think about these kinds of things because you only know one way of life, and you don’t know anything different, but once you’re on the inside, everything changes. Everything you knew suddenly goes out the window, and there’s a brand new way of doin’ everything that you just ain’t accustomed to. Everything you had suddenly doesn’t matter anymore, and you ain’t got nothin’ but time.

Time is somethin’ I think a lot of people take for granted. See, time doesn’t mean the same thing to the outside world. Time is just a number on your clock, or an amount you have to get somewhere, to get somethin’ done. Time is what you _wish_ you had. When you blink and suddenly realize how much time you wasted scrollin’ through Facebook, and just lost track of it. When you’re watchin’ television, maybe a show you really like, but then the episode ends and you wish it would continue.

When you’re waitin’ at a bus stop and you’re anxiously tappin’ your foot on the concrete, checking the time on your phone, wonderin’ why the bus ain’t there already. Why it ain’t on _time_. Time just tick, tick, tickin’ away, always disappearin’ on you. That’s all. But time spent inside a jail cell, you ain’t got nothin’ else _but_ the number on that clock. Nothin’ but time, and plenty of it to think about your life. You discover a lot about yourself when you’re lyin’ awake at night, starin’ up at the ceiling.

When I got out everything was different too. I didn’t think so much would change in only ten years, but I barely recognized the world when I got out. It wasn’t the world I left behind. Del’s dad was dead, Axel got remarried, and Jesse wasn’t a plucky little kid anymore. He was a grown man. It scared the shit out of me. It wasn’t like I didn’t know ‘cause Del wrote to me all the time when I was behind bars, but knowin’ and seein’ are two different things. Seein’ it was almost devastating.

It wasn’t just my friends either, it was everything about the world. Everybody acted different, everybody looked different too. Different styles of dress, different ways of doin’ everything. All this technology that was way more advanced and ‘user friendly’ than it was ten years ago. I was lucky to watch cable tv every once in a while when I was locked up, but when I got out, everything was shoved in my face and it drove me crazy. But the biggest thing that changed? _Me_.

I just didn’t want to be the same guy I was when I left. I didn’t want to go back to that, I _couldn’t_ go back to that. I just couldn’t go back to livin’ like that ever again, so I shut myself away and quit talkin’ to everyone. Del practically forced it out of me. Came out to my house and practically busted down my door to get inside and figure out what the fuck was wrong with me. So I sat him down, and I told him the truth. Funny thing was how he responded though.

“Hell, is that all it’s about? Goddamn, I thought you were dyin’…Wait, you ain’t secretly in love with me or somethin’, are ya?” He leaned to the side away from me, glancin’ at me like he thought I’d try to fuck him and I scowled at him, then shoved his shoulder, almost knockin’ him off the bench.

“Hell no, you fuckin’ dickhead,” I scoffed at him. “You couldn’t _pay_ me ta fuck your ugly ass.”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’d take a whole helluva lot of liquor, huh?”

“That, and probably some fuckin’ date rape drugs on top of it.”

But he was okay with it. He don’t care that I’m gay. But see Del ain’t really got a cruel bone in his body really. He might be ignorant sometimes, but he ain’t really capable of hatin’ people. He might not like hearin’ about it, but he don’t care if other people do it. The way he sees it, they can do whatever the hell they want. He might be kind of disgusted at the thought of two guys goin’ at it, but he’s fine, long as he ain’t gotta see it. Slowly over time I just stopped carin’ what other people thought too.

My friends might not like the fact that I’m gay, but they don’t say nothin’ about it either. Just like I ain’t gonna say nothin’ about the unregistered Colt .45 Desert Eagle Axel keeps tucked under his shirt, with the serial numbers filed off, that he ain’t supposed to have ‘cause he’s a convicted felon. Like I said, mutual understanding. I stay the hell outta their way, they stay out of mine. If anyone has a problem with the way I live my life, they’re welcome to take it up with my fist.

I’m thinkin’ about all that right now in the truck beside Del. He’s right, it’s happening again. I’m shuttin’ people out. I’m closin’ off, and goin’ back to bein’ the fuckin’ dickhead I used to be. But I’m just not all that good at discussin’ my feelings an’ such. I’m not that articulate. I don’t wanna hear his smart assed comments either. All I wanna do is go home and pretend this night never happened. But Del just won’t let it go. “Come on, just talk to me, man. What’s been goin’ on with you?”

“Nothin’.”

“Bull fuckin’ shit.”

“Del.”

“What?”

“_Please_ shut the hell up.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t. Now tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Dammit Del just let it go.”

“I ain’t gonna. I know whatever it is, it’s got to do with that boy. What’s his name, Ashton?”

“It’s ain’t him. It’s just me.”

“Well then what is it with you?”

I sigh. He just can’t fuckin’ drop somethin’, can he? Fine then. “Del, be honest, what makes you think a boy like that would want anything to do with a guy like me? What would he do with me?”

“I don’t want to _know_ what that boy would be doin’ with you,” he tells me. Then he grimaces like he just thought of it anyway and can’t get the mental image out of his head.

“I don’t mean it like that, goddammit. I meant what would he _see_ in me?”

“Well I dunno. But I think he kinda liked you though,” he shrugs a little. “Hell, that’s even _after_ he watched you put out a lit cigar on somebody’s face. I don’t get why you didn’t just talk to him. What’s the matter? I thought you liked guys like him.”

Correction: I like to _fuck_ guys like him. There’s a difference. What I like is to go to a bar, and when I find someone I want, I like to take ‘em out to my car and fuck their brains out in the back seat. But that’s as far as it ever goes, because I know that anything beyond that would be a waste of time. They might like the way I look, might even like the way I talk, but the second they found out who I really am, what I’m all about, and the kind of friends I keep, they’d run screaming from me.

That’s even to say I like _them_. Boys like him always have some kind of strings attached. Or they’d try to change me. Make me more like them. I ain’t as ignorant as Del, but I ain’t exactly a ‘nice’ man either. A boy like him would never have a place in my life. I’d never have a place in his either. We might be fine just fuckin’ around, but I ain’t exactly the kinda guy you take home to meet your family. But yes, yes I’d definitely like to fuck Ashton, that’s for damn sure.

That pretty little baby named Ashton.

_Ashton, Ashton, Ashton…_

I sigh as I think about all of it and rub my brow with my thumb and index finger.

“I do like ‘em,” I say to Del. “They just don’t ever like me.”

He thinks for a minute. “Oh I think I get what this is about,” he says when it dawns on him. “This ain’t just about you wantin’ somebody to fuck around with. This is about you wantin’ a _boyfriend_, ain’t it. You’re wantin’ ta settle down or some shit.”

Maybe. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what all this is about. I just know I’m tired of goin’ to bed and wakin’ up alone. But Del don’t have any of his candid comments or backwards advice for me this time. Not like Del knows a damned thing about keepin’ a woman either. So he just keeps his mouth shut and we finish the ride in silence. He turns down a gravel road, drives out to the end of it, and parks the truck next to a black Mercury Cougar, in front of a two story building.

It ain’t much, but it’s home. It’s pretty remote, this far outside of town. My closest neighbor is fifty yards from me, and never talks to me, which means I have plenty of space, and it’s nice and quiet too. Just how I like it. “I’ll catch you later, man,” I say to Del and hop out of the truck. I watch him maneuver to turn it around but the fuckin’ moron hits the gas pedal too hard and spins the back tires, spittin’ gravel. “Stop spinnin’ rocks in my driveway, goddamn it!” I bark.

He just flips me the bird as he drives off. Then it’s just me, and I sigh, runnin’ fingers through my hair before I turn and open the garage. The whole place is built kind of like a garage apartment, with the downstairs being a two stall garage and I live up above it. Used to be an office, the whole place used to be an auto body shop before it closed down, and I turned it into somethin’ more livable when I bought it. But that’s _why_ I bought it, to have plenty of room to work on my project.

I open the garage door to see the half finished ‘67 Shelby GT500 lifted up because I’ve been working on the undercarriage at the moment. I started from scratch. Bought the body and the frame years ago from some old man that used to collect classic cars, and I’ve been slowly, bit by bit, part by part, fully restoring it to it’s original condition. I would consider it my life’s work, but really it’s just somethin’ to pass the time, somethin’ that I love doin’. It’s what I’m good at. Fixin’ things.

It’s my job, but I don’t get paid to do this kind of thing, I just do this because I want. To restore a ‘67 Shelby and get it back on the road. It’s like I’m breathin’ life back into somethin’ that was once dead and gone, and givin’ it a second chance. I feel like if I can take an old rusted, dented piece of tin and make it a car, maybe–just maybe, mind you–I can turn myself around too. I can be more than just some fuckin’ loser with no real purpose and no direction in life. Because _this_ is my purpose.

But as I flip on the lights and stare at that car, I think to myself maybe Del is right. Maybe this kinda life just ain’t enough for me anymore. Maybe what I’m wantin’, I’m not gonna find in any owner’s manual, on the shelf of any part store, or parked in any garage in this country. Maybe what I’m lookin’ for, what I really need, ain’t somethin’ with headlights. Ain’t somethin’ burnin’ gasoline, but with blood in their veins. Maybe it could be somebody like Ashton. Or…maybe Ashton himself.

I don’t know. All I know is I can’t stop thinkin’ about him.

When I close my eyes, he’s all I see there too, every single time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	5. Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m attracted to a psychopath, so maybe I’m the one that’s weird._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["All I Need"–Matchbox Twenty](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=n7Q1Hp8ZYfk&feature=share)

ASH-

“Oh my fucking god, Ash!” Stephanie shrills, almost the second her car starts moving and we’re driving down the road. “Like seriously, what the fuck were you doing in a biker bar?! Of all places to be! Don’t you know what kind of people are lurking in places like that?!”

Oh yes. Yes, I know all too well. Matter of fact, I got first hand experience of just what kind of men were lurking there tonight.

I start from the beginning and I explain everything. Being followed out of the club I went to, chased down the street and how the only place that was open was Riders, so I ran inside. I was so scared I wasn’t thinking clearly, and all I could think to do was run, maybe find a place I could hide and wait it out. But they found me, and that’s when Brody decided to get involved. “Oh my fucking god!” she shrieks. “He put out a lit cigar on somebody’s face?!” Well, technically his neck, but yeah.

“Yeah, it was like…_so_ brutal.” But also kind of chivalrous of him. Maybe even kind of hot. In a creepy, sadistic sort of way. But I’m not about to say that out loud and make Stephanie think I’ve completely lost my mind, which I’m starting to think maybe I actually did. Because I can’t stop thinking about him still. I can’t get him out of my head. Seeing that tiny quirk of a smile when I offered to buy him a drink as a kind of ‘thank you’ for saving me from those creeps. His eyes too.

I told you they would haunt me.

I think it’s just desperation that’s making me think so irrationally. It’s been months since I’ve been with anyone, and I’m just so sick of being alone. That’s all it is. If I was in a happy, fulfilling relationship with a guy, Brody probably wouldn’t even cross my mind, or look half as tempting. I would in no way excuse his behavior either. I would take one look at a guy like that and I would walk away. Or just run screaming. I don’t condone violence of that degree, nor would I ever find it attractive.

But I don’t know, maybe it’s just that I’m so used to the constant threat of being on the _receiving_ end of such violence. I’m gay, and there are plenty of homophobes in this city to go around. So the worry of being harassed by someone follows me everywhere I go really. Because people like that are everywhere I go, and they’re not friendly in the least. So when I see such things, or I’m around such people, I associate their toxic behavior with homophobia, or hedonism. Not chivalry.

Of course, Brody on the other hand, was the complete opposite of what I would expect from a guy like him. He even looked like he would legitimately stab Del when he accidentally let the f word slip, and he called me a fag. I think my mind is just so overwhelmed, and I’m so overstimulated by the experience that now I’m over-analyzing the situation instead of calling it how it is. Instead of just accepting and moving on, I’m picking apart his actions and his words.

I should just put it all behind me. That’s what I should do. Just forget this night ever happened and move on with my life. I’ll probably never see any of them again. What I experienced tonight will all be behind me, and I’ll go back to my life being the way it was before. All those questions I have about Brody’s character will just go unanswered I suppose. I turn and glance at Stephanie as she’s driving, eyes passing over her revealing outfit again, and since I need a change of subject, I scoff.

“Don’t tell me you dressed like that just because I told you I was at a bar and you thought there might be cute guys there.”

“No?…Maybe…Yes,” she finally concedes with a sigh. “A couple of them were cute though. That one guy seemed kind of nice. Still creepy, but kind of sweet though. I mean he told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.”

“You’d take a compliment from anyone,” I say, rolling my eyes. Shaking my head at how she almost sounds smitten with Del. “You know that guy is a convicted felon, right? He did tell me he committed arson, and he went to prison, so…”

She shrugs a little. “Well, I wouldn’t marry him or anything.”

“But you would totally sleep with him, wouldn’t you?”

“No! No of course not! I…Well, maybe…okay yeah, yeah I would.” I can’t help but laugh. She smiles, because she knows how ridiculous she sounds right now. “But you have no room to talk,” she adds. “Sounds to me like you’ve got a serious thing for that Brody guy. Wait, was he the one sitting by himself at the bar? That was him, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, okay everything like totally makes sense now?” she giggles. “He’s fucking gorgeous, babe. Like, that guy should be on the cover of a magazine or something. Like, that level of hot just doesn’t happen every day.”

“I know right?” I quip. “It’s almost like he’s too hot to exist. I would happily let a guy like that molest me any day of the week. Like, just tie me up and do whatever the fuck he wants to me, no questions asked.”

Steph chuckles at me. “You’re such a freak, babe.”

“Yeah I know,” I sigh, smiling.

But Brody is 100% my type though. There’s no question about that. I love guys like him. Big, strong, tough and manly. A freak, Stephanie calls me, because she knows I’m kind of kinky, and sometimes I like to do things like let a guy like that tie me up, maybe spank me a little or something, let me call them Daddy. I don’t know why I like that stuff, but I just do. It’s not like I have “daddy issues” or something like that. No, dad and I have a great relationship. I just think it’s hot, that’s all.

But sometimes I wonder if I really _am_ a freak, not just the kinky kind. If there’s just something wrong with me. Because I have yet to find a man that accepts me entirely, completely for who I really am, and I wonder if it’s not them. If it’s me with the problem. If I’m the one with the issues, not them. But I don’t know how to fix it. I think about it, as Stephanie takes me to my apartment, makes me promise I will never go back to that “creepy biker bar”, then as I unlock the door and head inside.

I’m attracted to a psychopath, so maybe I’m the one that’s weird.

*

I go out with a guy named Trey. I met him at work, and he gave me his number, but I’d yet to call him up and ask him out. I’m nervous, because even though things might start out well, that’s no guarantee things will continue to go smoothly. Especially if we reach the stage of the relationship where we get physical. I kind of want to get that out of the way as quickly as possible when I meet someone new. No tumultuous warm-up or anything. Just rip it off like a band-aid.

So Trey is great. He’s very sweet, and very romantic. I like romantic guys too. I like things like going out to dinner, slow dancing, and snuggling in bed together. I wouldn’t say he’s a ten looks-wise, but he’s cute in a dorky way that makes me smile. We go to Appplebee’s together and he has me laughing at all his quirky comments almost the whole night. After, I slip in the offer to go back to my place together, and he’s okay with that. I think he wants to see if this could work between us too.

We have a ton of things in common and I think we have great chemistry together. I think maybe this could work. This could be the guy that gets Brody out of my head, because I still think about him. Fantasize about him in the dark, all alone in my bedroom, underneath my blanket. But Trey is amazing, and I really like him. He’s the kind of guy I _should_ be with. He’s safe. He’s a respectable, dependable sort of guy. He’s someone I could take around my family and be proud to introduce to them.

He doesn’t make my heart race with a mix of excitement and fear, make me weak in the knees, hard and aching, or desperate, and he doesn’t make we want to immediately strip him naked and pounce on him, but he’s kind, gentle and sweet. He’s just what I need right now. I really need a guy like Trey in my life, I think. Maybe he could be the one for me. The one who will accept all parts of me. Maybe, and it’s quite possible, I could be that guy for him too. 

When we get to my apartment we’re all over each other, kissing and touching. He feels great too. He’s not quite was I was hoping for, but I’m not about to let that sway my decision making here. Just because something isn’t perfect, doesn’t mean it isn’t still pretty great. I lead him back to my bedroom and we fall to the bed together. We strip each other down and continue, Trey kisses my neck, my collar bone, slowly inching down my chest, then to my stomach.

It starts to feel pretty amazing, which worries me, because when I feel something intensely, that’s when the tears start. But he seems like a very understanding person, so maybe he won’t be freaked out if I, you know, burst into tears during sex because it feels so wonderful? “Uhm, Trey, wait,” I blurt, and he pops his head up to look at me. “I-I need to tell you something,” I say, and so he stops what he’s doing, crawls back to me, staring down at me with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…there’s something I thought maybe I should mention first before we, you know, go any further?”

“Okay?”

“I just,” I shrug a little. “Thought maybe I should warn you that I might get a little emotional.”

“Emotional?” he repeats. “You mean like…crying or something?” 

I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “It’s just when it feels really good, and it’s really intense, sometimes I get overly emotional when that happens and…and I cry.” 

His brows raise. “Oh, well, I mean, that doesn’t seem like a bad thing,” he says. “I mean, if it feels that good I’d take it as a compliment.” He smiles down at me. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of people cry after really good sex. I myself have gotten emotional after a really intense orgasm.”

“Not after,” I correct. “I meant during.”

“During? As in…” I just nod. “Oh. Uh, okay?” He seems like he doesn’t really know what to think of that, like it’s a relatively new concept for him, but he swallows the proverbial pill and continues. He starts touching me. He’s soft and gentle, not quite as passionate as before, but still very interested in having sex, so I think we might be okay here. Like, this could actually work. I’m getting good vibes. He didn’t get freaked out and hightail it out of my apartment as fast as he could at least.

He’s really into foreplay, so he spends a lot of time going down on me and opening me up with his fingers before he slides on a condom. He feels really great, and just like I thought he would be, he’s a very understanding, and accepting person, so I start trembling, partly from the stimulation, and partly from my building emotions. He gets me comfortable, helping me to arrange a pillow under me, then slowly pushes in. When he’s all the way in he lets out a blissful sigh and his eyes fall shut.

He feels so good, so as he starts moving inside me, I can’t up but scrunch my face up a little, tears stinging my eyes. But at the first sob I choke out, his eyes pop open and he looks down at me, in part shock, and part what I _think_ might be wonder at first, until he stops moving. I really don’t want him to. I don’t want him to stop and I don’t want him to leave. He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it and continues. _Oh thank god,_ I think, and tears stream down my face.

But the harder I sob the more uncomfortable he gets and finally he just stops moving and slowly pulls out, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I just…I can’t do this.”

“I’m sorry,” I sob. But he shakes his head again.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s not you. It’s…it’s just me. I just…I feel like I’m _hurting_ you.”

I sit up a little and place a hand on his arm. “You’re not. I promise you’re not. It’s not like that at all. It feels amazing.” I smile at him, trying to reassure him, as I rub his arm.

“I get that, but…” He sighs. “It’s just seeing you crying like that, to me it _looks_ like I’m hurting you, and it’s kind of…kind of triggering for me. I don’t want to hurt you, Ash. I really like you, and it just…it almost feels _wrong_, if that makes any sense. Like I’m taking advantage of you or something, and I’m just not that kind of person. I’m not into that kind of thing.” I wipe the tears from my face and heave a sigh. This is going to be a problem if me crying makes him feel like he’s raping me.

“Would it help if you didn’t have to see it?” I ask. “Like, maybe if we did doggy style? If you’re behind me you won’t see my face.” He winces a little, but after some thought, he shrugs like he’s willing to give it a try.

“Okay,” he mumbles.

I roll over and we continue. But now I’m not in such great of a mood as I was previously. Something about the look in Trey’s eyes makes me feel like a freak still. The way I make him uncomfortable makes _me_ uncomfortable too. It feels good from this angle, but I can’t come, for some reason. I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the head space I’m in, but I’m just not feeling it anymore. Trey just isn’t doing it for me really, but I don’t want to make him stop entirely, so I close my eyes.

I picture jet black hair and a naked body covered in tattoos. I picture him behind me, gently tugging my hair, pulling my head back, and saying, “You like that, baby? Huh? You like it when Daddy pulls your hair?” And I respond with an enthusiastic yes. In my fantasy I’m not crying, because in my fantasy I’m what I want to be. I’m perfect, and so is he, because it’s _my_ fantasy, and it can be whatever I want it to be. “You want Daddy to make you come?” Brody asks me. Fuck yes I do.

Trey fades away from existence, and all I see, hear and feel instead is Brody.

Imagining his voice murmuring in my ear is what gets me off.

Trey hasn’t come yet, and so I don’t get overstimulated from sex, I offer to suck him off.

He doesn’t stay the night, and I don’t think I’ll be going out with him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the new Rich Text editor :/
> 
> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	6. Nightlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everywhere I go, I look for him, in every face I see._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["Chasing Daylight"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=mO8y2YZ0SKI&feature=share)

BRODY-

Everywhere I go, I look for him, in every face I see. Some part of him I can connect with, hold onto, even if just for a second. I never find _him_, but I do always manage to find the next best thing. Tonight, I find it at Flux. I kinda like it here. They let their customers smoke, and I always want a cigarette when I’ve been drinking. So I can pull out my pack as I’m standin’ by the bar, light one up, and nobody says a word. I puff on it, then as I’m taking a drink, the next best thing walks up to me.

He’s been starin’ at me from across the room for several minutes now, and I guess I’m his type. He likes what he sees so he approaches me as I’m leanin’, puffin’ on my cigarette, scrollin’ through my phone. I look up just when he gets near me, and he smiles. He’s kind of effeminate, got this goth thing goin’ on, with his all-black clothes, black hair, kohl lining his eyes, nails painted black too. I see why I’m his type. He likes them wearin’ dark colors, with tattoos and piercings, lookin’ dangerous.

He’s not really my type, but his eyes are blue, and they make me think of someone else that has those eyes. Big and blue, belongin’ to a pretty little baby I can’t get outta my head. This one sidles up to me, smirkin’, sayin’ hi. Hands on my chest, and the way he’s lookin’ at me, I know it ain’t just conversation he wants. Yeah, he wants to fuck. I pocket my phone, take one last puff on my cigarette before I set it in the ashtray, and slip my arms around him, let my hands slide down to his ass.

“Hey,” I say, and he bites his lip. I look him up and down, kinda likin’ what I see, but it might be the liquor. I’ve had just a bit too much. Not enough that I couldn’t still get it up, but just enough to do somethin’ stupid. I think I wanna do that somethin’ stupid with this boy. I think he wants to do that somethin’ stupid too. “Wanna go somewhere an’ make out, then call me Daddy while I fuck your brains out in the back seat of my car?” I ask him. 

He chuckles at me. “Wow. You just get straight to the point, huh?”

I smirk, then reach for my cigarette, take a drag, then shrug and say, “Saves time that way.”

“Hmm, well it saves me the trouble too,” he purrs up at me, pressing closer to my body.

Really it just saves me the headache though. I don’t do all that flirting and makin’ small talk. I ain’t all that good at it really, and usually when I start talkin’ to ‘em, I stop likin’ ‘em. Once I find out how annoying and high maintenance they actually are, kinda ruins the sex too. I’ll just pretend he’s whatever I want, whatever I need him to be, and just enjoy his company for a little while. Or maybe he ain’t all that bad. Maybe he ain’t one of those bratty, demanding types. I guess I’ll find out.

We go to my car. It’s dark, and there’s no one around so we start makin’ out. He’s in my lap while I’m in the driver’s seat. He’s grindin’ up on me, fisting my shirt, while his other hand is pullin’ my hair. He’s impatient too. We’ve been here five seconds and already he’s reaching down to hastily unbuckle my belt, unbutton my jeans and zip open my fly, moaning in my mouth. I guess just because I’m blunt, he got the idea that I don’t wanna waste any time with sex either. I gently push him back.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, baby,” I tell him. 

He blinks. “Okay, how slow are we talking here? Romantically, or as in this is your first time kind of slow? Like this isn’t actually your first time is it? You’re not, like, just bi curious, are you?”

I snort. “Nah. I just meant we ain’t gotta rush if you don’t want to, that’s all.”

“No, it’s fine,” he tells me. “I like it rough, and kind of fast paced. I mean this is great and all, but I kind of just want to get to the part where you yank my hair, call me names and fuck me hardcore? If you don’t mind.”

Ah, okay. I get it now. Guess me bein’ straightforward about it sent out the wrong signals, maybe it’s how I look, or how I talk, that gave him the idea that I’m an asshole, and he likes assholes like that, the kind of guy who’s just gonna treat him like a slut, cheap and easy. Hell, maybe he really is, I don’t know. Definitely don’t wanna know how many men he was comin’ on to at Flux before he got to me, much less how many guys he’s already fucked this week.

But it’s not that he’s in any hurry to get this over with, he just wants to skip this part and go straight to bangin’ in the back seat. That’s all. Kinda disappointing, really. Sometimes I like just bein’ close to somebody, just holdin’ ‘em, touchin’. Not everything about being with somebody has to just be about sex. Lately, I’ve been thinkin’ my problem isn’t even anything to do with sex at all. If it was just frustration, I could just jerk off. But it’s not that. It’s somethin’ else.

Obviously it’s not an issue I can resolve tonight, because this guy doesn’t seem to want anything else besides just sex. Fine then. I’ll give him what he wants. We’ll skip the preamble. I really don’t mind. I may have my preferences, but in the end, if it’s just about gettin’ my rocks off, I’m down for anything. So we skip the foreplay and he climbs in the back seat, I reach in the glove box for condoms and lube, then we work our pants off to get down and dirty, me fuckin’ him from behind.

But it’s just…I don’t know. It’s not what I want this time around.

So I close my eyes.

I picture soft reddish brown hair parted to the side and freckles I wanna taste. He’s on his knees for me, blinking up at me with those big blue eyes, bitin’ that bottom lip before he slowly unbuckles my belt. “Let me take care of you, Daddy,” he begs as he gets my pants down, and I smile at him, rubbing his cheek with my thumb. “You always take such good care of me. It’s my turn now.” He’s soft and slow with that pretty little mouth of his, tryin’ so hard to please Daddy, just the way he likes.

I picture him suckin’ me off for a while, nice and slow, until I get close. Then I picture him under me, beggin’ for it. “Please,” he whimpers.

“Hush, baby,” I sooth. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Don’t you worry.”

He likes it slow too. Likes it when I bind his wrists, not too tight, never too tight, because it might hurt him, and we can’t have none of that, but just enough that he can’t escape me, and I can play with him all I want. Touch him everywhere. Maybe see if the baby’s ticklish too. Taste every inch of him. Get him all worked up with my fingers first before I’m deep inside him and fuckin’ him just right. “You love your Daddy?” I murmur in his ear and I hear a little ‘uh-huh’. “Daddy loves you too, baby.”

I come hard. Harder than I ever have. Goddamn I want him so bad. The boy underneath me now is _not_ what I want. It’s _him_. It’s fuckin’ Ashton.

But the boy I’m with is eggin’ me on, wants more, wants to come too, and I can still keep it up so I give him what he wants. “Oh yes! Just like that! Fuck me, Daddy!”

It don’t sound right though, not comin’ from him. 

When I hear this boy call me that, it just sounds off. Just…_wrong_, somehow. It’s not said the way I wanna hear it, and if it weren’t for the fact that I already came, it would completely ruin it for me. So I do my best to ignore it. I just picture Ashton some more. I imagine it’s Ashton whining and begging for it while I’m fuckin’ him from behind. I imagine it’s Ashton screaming, “Yes, god yes, oh right there! Fuck! Right there! Oh don’t stop!” I imagine it’s him moaning and groaning until he comes.

As soon as I get him off, I pull out, and I go down quick so I carefully slide the condom off without makin’ a mess and toss it onto the floorboard right there in the back seat. Then I shrug my pants back up and flop down in the seat. “You have any Kleenex?” he asks me and suddenly his voice is the most irritating thing on this earth. I nod a little and point to the center console, then flex my jaw as he digs around inside it until he finds what he’s after and cleans himself up. “Well, that was fun–”

“Get out,” I blurt out, and he gapes at me.

“What?”

“Get out of my car,” I say again.

“Whoa, okay, aren’t we bipolar, I see.”

“I said get the fuck out of my car!” I snap and he flinches. But then he scowls at me, finishes pullin’ up his pants, buckling his belt, and can’t get away from me fast enough, which I’m alright with, because I want him as far away from me as humanly possible. He slams my car door way too hard and heads back to the club we walked out of. I sigh when he’s gone. Good fuckin’ riddance. I lean my head back and close my eyes. I don’t know why I snapped at him like that really.

I could’ve just told him, “Thanks. Had a good time. Maybe I’ll call you.” It’s not like any of it’s _his_ fault, I mean, not really. I kinda feel like shit for doin’ it.

But I just wanted him gone because I’m so fuckin’ aggravated. I’m so sick of this. Sick of not having what I really want. See, I know what I want now, I know what’s missin’ in my life, but I just don’t know how to get it. Love. That’s what I want. Not this. Not just sex with random fucktoys in the back seat of my car. I want love, _real_ love, the kind that lasts. But I don’t know where to start lookin’ for it. Or with who I might ever find it. I don’t think guys like me are meant to have that kind of thing.

*

I sober up and drive across town to Riders. Let the music I play carry me forward. I don’t think about nothin’ but the road ahead and the lyrics of the songs. This might surprise you, but despite the way I act and the kind of people I tend to gravitate toward, which is just the type of people I grew up around, I don’t really like a lot of that hard rock or heavy metal kind of music, which is what most of them listen to. I listen to a lot of softer shit actually, groups like Train, Coldplay, and Lifehouse. 

I used to be sensitive about it. Heaven forbid anybody find out I liked that kind of shit when I was younger, but now that I’m older, I’ve learned to let go of that mentality and stop lettin’ other people’s opinions bother me. Del makes fun of me for it all the time. But lately I’ve been kind of obsessed with a pop artist by the name of Mikky Ekko, so I listen to nothin’ but him on my way over to Riders and it keeps me calm. There’s just somethin’ about his voice and the lyrics of his songs that gets to me. 

I do turn it off when I pull into the parking lot though, because I’m liable to be harassed by the people standin’ outside when I pull in and I don’t feel like gettin’ into any kind of trouble tonight. I just wanna have a good time. Sandy’s workin’ tonight, always has a smile for me when I walk in, and a fresh cold beer for me when I walk up to the counter. “Hey Brody,” she greets me and all of the remaining tension in my frame relaxes at a familiar face. Del is here too. He never goes anywhere else.

“What’s goin’ on, baby doll,” I smile at Sandy, pullin’ the unlit cigarette from my mouth. She hands me a cold one.

The bar is packed wall to wall tonight, all the pool tables are occupied and every booth is full of random bodies talkin’ and drinkin’. I sidle up to Del who’s playing for money tonight. Bad idea, ‘cause he can’t play for shit, and no doubt he’ll lose all that money by the end of it. He does a double take when he sees me. He takes his shot, misses, but steps around the table to talk to me, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “The fuck are you doin’ here. Thought you had plans.”

“I did,” I say with a nod. “Now I’m back.”

“Well, that was kinda quick. Or was the fish not bitin’ tonight?”

“Oh I got bit. Threw it back afterwards though,” I shrug.

“Heh. That’s ‘cause it weren’t the right fish,” he says knowingly. I roll my eyes. He’s been pestering me about just goin’ out and findin’ Ashton, instead of throwin’ myself at any random person to get him out of my head. But that ain’t gonna work. I know it ain’t. We watch his opponent make their shot, sink the 6, then wander around the table ‘til he lines up the next shot just the way he wants. He makes the next one too. “Dammit, this guy’s gonna run the table on me.”

“That’s what you get for puttin’ your money on it,” I remark, and Del side-eyes me, like he’s sayin’, ‘Yeah, yeah, I know, and ya ain’t gotta remind me.’

“You know that place is still open,” he murmurs quietly. “I bet he’s in there right now.”

I groan and roll my eyes at that. Nope. I ain’t doin’ it. I ain’t goin’ to Vice lookin’ for Ashton. 

“Del?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He chuckles and waves me off, then moves to make his shot, as the guy he’s playin’ finally got off his run and scratched, cue ball flyin’ off the table. No, I ain’t lookin’ for nobody tonight. I’m right where I wanna be. Or so I tell myself. Hell, he’s probably got a boyfriend anyhow. He’s got all he wants, all without me, and he don’t need some asshole like me comin’ in and fuckin’ up his life. He don’t need _me_ to hold him at night, whisper in his ear, tellin’ him all my secrets, listenin’ to his.

He’s just a fantasy. He ain’t real life. 

I stay at Riders, drink and shoot some pool. Start feelin’ good. Almost get in a fist fight with some guy though, ‘cause his girlfriend came over and was talkin’ to me, kinda flirtin’ too. Del had to hold me back when he started screamin’ at her, threatin’ her and shit. I don’t like kind of thing, don’t like men that act like that toward women. Del kept me from hurtin’ him and Sandy threw ‘em both out. But I have a good time though. I get trashed, too drunk to drive, so I have Sandy drive me home. 

I go home alone, pass out to the sound of my ceiling fan slowly turnin’ around and around above me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	7. Pathetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I kind of wish someone would come rescue me again right now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["Me And My Broken Heart"–Rixton](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=ooE8Og_tWgk&feature=share)

ASH-

Trey doesn’t answer any of my calls, or respond to any of my texts. Then he blocks me on Facebook too, and I know at that point it’s not that he’s busy, he just doesn’t want to ever see me again, but instead of being a man about it and finding a way to let me down gently, he’s just pretending I don’t exist, like nothing ever happened between us. It hurts, but I guess it really shouldn’t surprise me. He acted like it didn’t bother him, but seeing me cry during sex must have really freaked him out.

Why does this keep happening to me? Why can’t I just be happy like everyone else? Why is the universe so against me? What have I ever done to deserve this? I can’t take it anymore. I’m so sick of being alone, so sick of crying myself to sleep at night. I just want somebody to hold me, instead of hugging myself just to feel like someone’s comforting me as I sob into my pillow. I just…I just want someone to touch me without freaking out on me and running away.

I’m tired of feeling so pathetic. Tired of curling up in a ball and hugging my pillow tight, pouting like a cranky toddler that lost their favorite teddy bear. That’s what I feel like sometimes. Like someone took my teddy bear away, because they say I’m too old for it, and they won’t give it back. Like when my mom tried to get me to stop sucking my thumb when I was eight, and she said to me, “Sweetie, boys your age don’t do that. You have to start behaving like a big boy now, okay?”

It was a very hard habit to break. I never told anyone about it, but I didn’t actually stop sucking my thumb until I was fifteen. I kind of had to at that point, because my best friend stayed over, and how embarrassing would that be for your best friend and secret crush to see you still sucking your thumb after you’re way too old for that kind of thing? You know, sometimes I still wake up in the morning and find it in my mouth, because I’ve been doing it in my sleep? Pathetic.

That’s me. The definition of pathetic. I’m fucking tired of it. I’m tired of feeling this way and I just wish someone would come along that understood me. That accepted my faults and didn’t make me feel like a freak. I don’t know, maybe I should speak to a therapist. But I’m not convinced that a therapist would be helpful with something like heightened emotions, or emotional sensitivity during sex. I was always under the impression that emotions are a _good_ thing, not a flaw of some kind. 

I thought society _wanted_ men to be more in touch with their softer, more sensitive side.

So why am I such a freak?

God, why won’t someone just love me?

*

I have dinner with my parents on Sunday. I’m very lucky and very grateful to have a mother and father that accept me as I am, gayness included. I will never take that for granted because I know a lot of people aren’t so lucky like I am. But I’m very blessed to have a family like mine. They pester me all the time about settling down with someone though, and I don’t know how to tell them the truth. I make up little white lies of how the relationships don’t work out, why I haven’t found ‘the one’.

I don’t want to tell them it’s because I’m a freak.

But I come over and sit down across from mom at the dinner table, Stephanie to my left, dad to my right, and mom’s been griping about how short Steph’s shorts are. Dad too, but not as wholeheartedly as mom. Dad doesn’t particularly care honestly. He gave up the hope of his little girl staying pure and virginal years ago. Gave up on her ever settling down and giving them grandchildren too. She has just as many problems with men as I do, if not more. But it’s her own fault.

She makes it too easy for them. She falls for the first guy that shows her even a fraction of interest and she always ends up getting screwed over somehow. It’s the guys she picks too. All of them are assholes. She never goes for a nice guy, and always ends up with jerks that are unfaithful or abusive. She’s just an idiot who’s attracted to other idiots. But she’s just too nice and too forgiving of their faults, so she doesn’t realize she’s being taken advantage of until it’s far too late.

We cry about it together while eating Ben & Jerry’s every Saturday night. Then scrape ourselves together to have dinner with mom and dad every Sunday. Tonight I’m lost in thought, pushing my spaghetti around on my plate, staring off into space when mom finishes her lecture to turn to me next. She says something. I don’t hear it. “Huh?” I say and she sighs at me, setting down her fork and wiping her mouth with her napkin. “Sorry, I kind of…spaced. What’s up?”

“I asked if you’re okay, sweetie,” she tells me. “You’ve barely touched your plate.”

“Something on your mind, kiddo?” Dad asks me.

I set my fork down and sigh. “I’m alright, I just…just haven’t really been feeling all that well.”

“You’re still hung up on that guy, aren’t you?” Stephanie asks me, glancing up from where she’s been texting on her phone and ignoring mom’s lecture.

“Guy? What guy?” Mom asks, eyes shifting back and forth between us.

“His name is Trey,” I say. “We went out, but things didn’t really work out between us. He won’t answer any of my calls. I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.”

“Oh I’m so sorry honey,” Mom says, reaching across the table to pat my hand.

“It’s okay. I don’t think I really want to see him that bad either.”

Stephanie chuckles. “I wasn’t talking about Trey,” she says, shaking her head at me. My eyes widen. Oh my god no, please don’t mention him Steph! Don’t–

“Wait, there’s _another_ guy?” Mom asks her, confused once more and glancing between us. “Who is she talking about, Ashton?”

Stephanie gives me this mischievous grin. “_Brody_,” she enunciates slowly, drawing out the name and just the sound of it makes me anxious.

“Who’s Brody?”

“Nobody, Mom. He’s nobody. Just…just some guy I met the other day. It was nothing.” I glare at Steph. “Not even worth mentioning,” I growl at her. She just smiles at me and turns to mom.

“He’s this super hot guy that saved Ash from some homophobic jerks that followed him when he left the nightclub the other night, he _means_ to say.”

“Oh? He sounds very chivalrous,” Mom chirps, like she approves.

“Ashton, why you didn’t mention anything about this?” Dad asks, confused. “What happened? Were you attacked, or…I mean, are you alright?”

“Obviously,” I say, rolling my eyes a little. “Nothing happened really. He just…chased them away, you know, ran them off, and…and that’s it.” I glance furtively at Steph, hoping she takes a hint and doesn’t elaborate. If mom and dad found out I was nearly beaten to death by three guys, then to learn the guy that saved me is a violent psychopath, and I was hanging around in a biker bar at two o’clock in the morning, they would kill me. But if I’m going down, I swear I’m taking her with me.

Luckily she keeps her mouth shut about it, which is a relief, but I know the only reason Steph brought it up is because she wanted to see me squirm. Or maybe she was hoping mom and dad would get off her back and lecture me for a change, so she gave them some ammo. They do lecture me, at least about staying safe and avoiding suspicious characters. Having someone with me when I walk home from a bar, or calling a cab instead. Mom suggests I carry mace or pepper spray in my pocket.

I really wish it was never brought up in the first place, because now I’m not even thinking about Trey anymore, and once more I’m back to obsessing over Brody.

You know, he’s probably not even gay.

*

It’s Friday night and Stephanie’s banging on my apartment door.

I don’t want to go out tonight, but she text me and said she’s picking me up. Despite all my protests she’s here anyway, and disturbing my Netflix binge. With a groan I pause my episode, peel myself off the couch and answer the door. “What the fuck. Why are you still in your pajamas?! What is the matter with you?” She brushes past me and into my efficiency apartment. It’s so tiny, and no matter what I do it just doesn’t feel homely. Just looks like a picture in a catalog. I hate it.

“Get dressed,” she snaps at me. “You and I are going to Vice tonight, no ifs, ands or buts about it.”

“Steph, stop,” I whine. “Just please stop. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

“You can’t lock yourself up in this apartment, babe. It’s not healthy, and not a very good way to meet men.”

“I don’t want to meet a guy, Steph. I’m done with men. I’m taking a vow of celibacy.”

“Ha! Yeah, like that will solve any of your problems. All that will accomplish is drive you insane, until one day you finally crack, and throw yourself at the very first scumbag you meet on a darkened street corner!”

“Oh, speaking from personal experience, are we?” I snark at her, and she purses her lips.

“Just go dancing with me,” she pleads. “Keep me company, and maybe, just maybe you’ll find someone while we’re there. You know, just to talk to. If not, then at least you can say you didn’t waste a perfectly good Friday night.”

“I’m _not_ wasting a perfectly good Friday night,” I deny, even if I myself don’t really believe it. “I’m very happy binge watching Netflix, thank you very much.”

“Netflix doesn’t love you back, sweetie,” she reminds, putting on her mom voice, and it’s so fucking freaky how much she actually sounds like mom right now. Ugh. She’s not going to let this go, is she?

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” She just smiles and shakes her head. “Whatever. Okay, fine. I’ll get dressed and we’ll go to Vice. But I’m going to mope the whole night, and you can’t stop me.”

“Whatever,” she chirps. “Mope then. But you’re going, and that’s all that matters.”

I’m think I’m going to regret this.

But I toss my plaid pajama pants in the laundry hamper and throw on a pair of jeans. I swap out my ratty old t-shirt with its coffee stains for a cute cashmere sweater I bought last year on sale. I stare at my reflection in the mirror as I comb my hair, and I wonder if anyone will notice the puffiness under my eyes. Probably not. It’s dark and dimly lit, and under the flash of the strobe lights most likely I’ll resemble every other guy there. I won’t care once I’m drinking anyway.

We go to Vice, pay the fee, get our bracelets, and head inside. I haven’t been back here since the night I was followed. I do eventually get off my ass and dance, but I do so exclusively with Steph, and purposefully avoid other men. I swear my sister’s out to get me though, because she introduces me to a couple of them anyway. One of them is a total diva, who’s name is Chase, but even though he’s your classic over-hyped and overly dramatic gay guy, and he’s not my type, he’s super sweet.

His friend’s name is Tyler, and he’s a bit more my speed, but I’m not really feeling it tonight. I’m just not that into him. I don’t want to go anywhere with him either. But he’s definitely interested in me. The four of us occupy a table and chat, getting to know one another, in between spurts of dancing when a song we like comes on. Stephanie and Chase both squeal when some song they both like starts up and disappear to the dance floor, leaving me alone and adrift with Tyler.

It’s a little awkward at first, because I have no real interest in getting to know this guy. But he’s smiling at me, he has a very nice smile and it’s been too long since any guy has looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now. I totally understand why Steph eats up the attention she gets, because it feels great to be wanted for a change. It’s a confidence boost. I’m just not that attracted to Tyler, honestly. He’s so bland he could be virtually _any_ guy for all I care. He’s just a face.

But he leans in close to me, resting his hand on the small of my back, to ask me something in my ear. I can hear him just fine, but since the music is so loud in this place I guess he thinks he still has to shout even though he’s so close. “You wanna maybe go somewhere?” he shouts right in my ear and I flinch. There goes an eardrum. I’ll probably need a hearing aid now. No, I don’t want to ‘maybe go somewhere’. I wince apologetically and shake my head.

“I kind of just wanted to stay here if that’s okay?” I say in his ear. He smells good though. Has on some chain store brand cologne that I recognize, but just can’t think of the name of. “Plus I don’t want to leave Stephanie.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods. “You wanna dance?”

No. Not with the way he’s touching me. Dancing will lead to making out on the dance floor, which will lead to us leaving the club and going back to his place or mine, which will lead to sex, which will lead to disaster. “I’m…I’m okay, actually. But I’m sure someone else would love to.” I glance around at all the random bodies, hoping he takes a hint. But he leans in closer, his arm circling tighter around me, almost possessively, and his nose brushes my cheek and ear.

“I kind of just want to dance with you,” he tells me. Okay this guy is coming on a lot stronger than I thought he would, and can’t seem to take a hint at all. I should be blunt and just say no, tell him to get his hands off me right now and keep them to himself, but I don’t know really. Maybe I should just go for it, at least let him take me for a spin on the dance floor, but I’m feeling kind of claustrophobic right now being pinned between the back wall and him. Cornered like a rat. So I pull away a little.

“Okay, I’m just…I’m just gonna go get some air first? I’m feeling kind of light-headed. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

I make my escape, shouldering my way through the crowd, thinking I’ll just text Steph and tell her I’m calling a cab and going home. There are so many people, it’s just so crowded, and I’m so confused right now that my anxiety shoots through the roof. Someone turned on the smoke machine and now the club is hazy, and I can’t hardly tell where I’m going in this place. I feel like I’m being swallowed up by the crowd, fighting to get through bodies standing, talking, or dancing.

I kind of wish someone would come rescue me again right now.

I turn, and collide with that someone head on.

“Oh god, I’m so, so sorry!” I apologize to the figure I just bumped into. “I didn’t mean to…”

My eyes meet his.

I gape, mouth hanging open in surprise, and my heart starts pounding frantically. It’s the last man I expected to see.

Wearing a tight, sleeveless black muscle shirt showing off his arms and _oh my god_ I want to die, because he’s got his arm around me to steady me like he thought I might trip and fall when I ran into him. Oh my god!

It’s the only man I’ve been wanting.

I heave breathlessly.

“Brody?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
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	8. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You gotta choice to make, baby. You can go out there and you can find that boy, and maybe have a real good life. Or you can sit here, wastin’ away, and be miserable for the rest of your life. Now what choice are you gonna make?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["No Man Is An Island"–The Script](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=BzWpjbcEuns&feature=share)

BRODY-

I’ve been sitting here at Riders for I don’t know how long now, peeling the label on my half empty beer bottle. Sandy’s blastin’ Lynard Skynard on the stereo, and the more liquored up people get the more they start singin’ badly with all the songs. Sweet Home Alabama comes on and nearly everybody loses their minds. I can never understand why. I mean goddamn, we ain’t even _in_ Alabama. Why does everybody in this fuckin’ bar gotta go ape shit whenever it comes on?

Ashes fall off my cigarette as I’m peelin’ that label, lost in my own head tonight while everyone around me carries on. I could be anywhere else right now, I could be at home, workin’ on the Shelby, tryna install the new parts that just came in yesterday, but I’m not. For some reason, every time I look at that car now I feel like a failure. I don’t know why. It’s just that every time I go to work on somethin’ it makes me think of how broken I am too, and how fucked up my life is right now.

I feel like that car. Somethin’ all bent up and broken, that shoulda died a long time ago.

Hell, maybe I _should_ just let it die. Stop bein’ some kind of Doctor Frankenstein with that damned Shelby and just junk it. Throw myself in the car crusher right along with it.

I get the label all the way off the bottle and ball the paper in my hand.

Sandy’s nearby watchin’ me, shakin’ her head at me, as she wipes down shot glasses with a rag.

Some slutty lookin’ little thing comes up to me.

“Hey,” she says as she sidles up to me in her high heels, shirt pulled down, tits all but fallin’ out of it. In my peripheral vision I see Sandy roll her eyes. She’s seen it a million times. Women just like this one right here throw themselves at me all the time. I’m just their type, I guess. I’m tall, dark and handsome, sittin’ here all alone, lookin’ all broken hearted and down on my luck, and they all think they’re just what I need. They might be, if I weren’t gayer than Freddie fuckin’ Mercury.

The latest edition presses up against me with a sugar sweet smile on her ruby red lips. She’s lacquered thick with make-up, with tight little shorts on, and she rubs my shoulder, her french tipped nails scratching my shirt. “Can I buy you drink, baby?” she asks, lickin’ her lips at me, like I’m the water in some oasis that’ll quench her undying desert thirst. Oh yeah, she’s thirsty for me alright. Real damn thirsty. But I’m not. I slowly shake my head and pick up my half empty beer.

“Got one right here,” I say, holding it up in salute, then I take a drink. It’s flat now, but I don’t really care. She bites her lip.

“How about the next one?” she asks me.

“I’m good with the one I got right now.”

“It’s gonna run out soon.”

I lean in a little, with a murderous look on my face. “Then I’ll drink it _slowly_.”

She takes the hint, and now she’s not lookin’ so goddamn thirsty, and instead just pissed that I turned her down. So she turns her nose up at me, sayin’, “Whatever,” Then she walks away to go bother somebody else. Good fuckin’ riddance. But Sandy’s eyein’ me still, like there’s somethin’ wrong with me. Maybe there is. She looks around to make sure nobody needs her before she walks up to me, leanin’ over the counter to talk to me. She stares me down like she’s tryna figure me out.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asks me. She places a hand over mine where it rests on the countertop, and she squeezes it. “You are the nicest, kindest, sweetest man I know, Brody. That ain’t like you to be so rude to somebody like that. What’s goin’ on with you?” I loosen my shoulders a little. She’s right. I’m not usually like that. I usually try to be as polite as I can, and find a nice way to let ‘em down gently. Sometimes I flirt with Sandy in front of ‘em, so they think we’re together. 

I shrug a little, setting down my beer to place my other hand over hers.

“I’m sorry. Just ain’t been havin’ a good week, that’s all,” I say.

She sighs at me. “It’s about him, ain’t it? That boy? Ashton?” she asks me, and I sulk a little. _Goddamn it Del, you just had to go runnin’ your mouth to Sandy, didn’t you?_ “Yeah, Del told me all about it,” she says, like she knew what I was thinkin’ just now. “Said you’re still beatin’ yourself up over not talkin’ to him that night. I don’t understand you, Brody. Why don’t you just go out there and get him? Why are you still sittin’ over here all by yourself every night? Just go after him, honey.” 

“Let me ask you somethin’,” I say, as I look up at her. “An’ be honest. Whatchya think a boy like him would want with a guy like me?”

“Oh I imagine he’d want a lot of things with a guy like you,” she winks at me, and I roll my eyes. “Fine, so he don’t really fit in with people like us, and maybe people like us don’t really have no place in his world either. But I have never known you to let what other people think ever stop you, Brody. Hell couldn’t stop you whenever you put your mind to somethin’, and sometimes I think not even God himself could ever stop you from doin’ whatever the hell you want to. So why are you still here?”

She leans in closer to me, and adds, “What are you so scared of, baby? Because the Brody I know ain’t scared of nothin’ short of a high powered rifle pointed at his chest.”

“It ain’t…it ain’t nothin’ like that,” I deflect.

“Then what is it?”

I sigh a little. 

“Sandy, you know I love you baby girl, and I appreciate what you’re tryna do for me right now, but this ain’t somethin’ you can fix. He saw what I did to those men. What I would’ve done next, if he hadn’t stopped me. That boy ain’t gonna give me the time of day. Because what he saw that night is the only thing a boy like him will ever see in a man like me.”

“You sure about that?” she asks me.

“I ain’t good enough for him, Sandy.”

“Well, why don’t you find him, let him get to know you better, and let him decide that for himself? ‘Cause ya ain’t ever gonna know if you don’t even try.”

I start to shake my head at her and she huffs at me. She stands up straight, reaches in her tip jar, and pulls out a twenty dollar bill. She slaps it on the table between us.

“What’s that for?”

“Vice.”

“Nope.” I adamantly shake my head. She opens her mouth but I cut her off. “No way, Sandy. I ain’t goin’ over there.”

“You _are_,” she corrects me, then slides the bill closer to me. “You can’t keep doin’ this to yourself, honey. A man can only take so much before he loses his mind.”

“I ain’t the one who’s outta their goddamn mind,” I smart, but she won’t hear of it, and shakes her head.

“No. Uh-uh. You’re goin’ over there and that’s all there is to it. Nobody should be alone for the rest of their life, baby. Not even men like you. Everybody needs somebody. Even you, so you’re gonna go out there an’ you’re gonna get him.”

“Sandy–”

“You gotta choice to make, baby. You can go out there and you can find that boy, and maybe have a real good life. Or you can sit here, wastin’ away, and be miserable for the rest of your life. Now what choice are you gonna make?”

“Sandy, I can’t–”

“Whaddya have to lose?”

I think long and hard about it. Maybe she’s right. 

Can’t really lose somethin’ I never had to begin with.

A few people at the other end of the counter start vying for Sandy’s attention, wantin’ drinks, so she leaves me there, tappin’ that twenty dollar bill in front of me one last time before she goes back to serving drinks. I stare at it for a minute. Hell, even if I don’t find him there tonight, still, maybe I’ll find _somebody_ at least. Maybe I really don’t have anythin’ to lose. I start to slide it away from me, thinkin’ better of it, but I stop. I slide it back. Then finally I snatch it off the counter.

When I’m headed to the door, I don’t see it, but Sandy’s smilin’ at my back.

I walk the two and a half blocks to Vice, stoppin’ every once in a while to ask myself what the hell I’m doin’. I must be crazy. That’s what it is. I really did snap and go insane, because there’s just no other explanation for what I’m doin’. I’ve _gotta_ be crazy. Even if he’s in there, he’s probably on the dance floor, makin’ out with some other guy, and the minute I see it I’ll go insane with jealousy and go outta my damn mind all over again. I’ll get my heart broken. Probably do somethin’ stupid again.

Why would he even want me anyway? Hell, that drink he offered to buy me was probably just him bein’ polite, because I saved his ass from those punks that were gonna beat him up. He don’t like me. He ain’t ever gonna want me, is he? But…I don’t know, maybe Del is right. Maybe he _did_ want to talk to me, but he was just too scared to come near me because of what I did, maybe he thought I was just another asshole, no better than them. No different. But he never came back.

I ain’t seen him since, so I don’t know. But for some dumb fuckin’ reason my feet keep draggin’ me forward, closer and closer to Vice each step. He ain’t in there. I ain’t gonna find him. But like I said, at least there’s a shot I’ll find somebody, and maybe get over this obsession I have with him. I could find somebody real, somebody with blood in their veins and a fuckin’ heartbeat. Maybe, instead of only makin’ it to the back seat of my car and no further, this time I’ll finally invite ‘em over to my place.

I run about a million conflicting thoughts through my mind before I finally get to the front entrance of the club. I hold out that twenty dollar bill with a big fake smile on my face to pay my way through the door. If I don’t smile, and I ain’t friendly with people, they think I’m just another asshole off the street, lookin’ to start trouble with the people inside. I pull out my wallet, show the doorman my I.D. and he slaps that little neon colored paper bracelet on my wrist then waves me inside.

The loud rumble of a bass drum pounds in my ears, vibrating throughout my body as soon as I enter, and I’m nearly blind for a second because it’s so dark. I shoulder my way through a group of people crowding the entrance and move on to the dance floor. Lights start flashin’ and there’s smoke fillin’ the air all around me. Bodies smashed together, grindin’ up against each other in time with the bass. You can practically smell the heat and sex just hangin’ in the atmosphere of places like this. 

Two pretty good lookin’ men are makin’ out right next to me as I’m glancing around, gettin’ my bearings back. Eyes are gravitating toward me as I walk past, my own eyes searchin’ the crowd of faces for the one I want. Men are checkin’ me out, a few even brush against me or reach out to touch but I ignore them and move on, maybe only glancing their way for a second or two, wonderin’ if it’s him. They smile, they bat their eyelashes, they bite their bottom lip, likin’ what they see.

But all I want is a hot little body attached to a pretty little face with big blue eyes and freckles I wanna taste. That’s all I want. All I search for. I shoulder my way past groups of people standing around and talking, drinks in hand. My pulse races, faster and faster with each slow step I take. I make my way to the bar, thinkin’ I’ll get a drink, then find a good spot to scope him out. I’m not really payin’ attention to people anymore and just make a beeline for the counter when someone bumps into me.

He’s so much smaller than me that when he collides with my chest he nearly falls over, so I reach out to steady him.

I blink a few times.

Then I crack a genuine smile, lickin’ and then bitin’ my bottom lip because guess what I just found.

“Oh god, I’m so, so sorry,” he apologizes profusely. “I didn’t mean to…” He looks up at me as if just now realizing who I am and he gapes at me in shock. “Brody?”

He looks up at me like he can hardly believe I’m here, that I even exist, the corner of his mouth quirking up in just the cutest little smile, but he’s nervous, like he ain’t really sure what I plan to do with him now that I’ve caught him. But I’ve found him. I’ve found what I’ve been searchin’ for. What I’ve been wantin’ so badly I can almost taste. I’ve found my pretty little baby with big blue eyes, and I’m never lettin’ him get away from me again. My arms start to circle tighter around him.

Funny thing is, he doesn’t pull away from me. No, he moves with me, like that’s exactly where he wants to be, like it’s the most natural thing in the world and his hands reach up to rest on my chest as he gazes up at me. Fuck he feels so good. I honestly think I could just hold him like this forever. Definitely the whole night through. He bites his lip, and I melt at that. I start gently rubbing circles in his back where my hands rest and for a time I forget there’s even a world around us.

His hands slowly slide up my chest, to my shoulders, then up around my neck, and he stands on his toes to say something in my ear.

“Looking for someone?” he asks me and I’m smirking.

I lean down to murmur in his ear, “I’ve found him.” My fingers brush his sweater, gliding over the material as I talk. I feel his shy smile, his cheeks warming as he blushes, and I think to myself maybe I had it all wrong, right from the beginning. Maybe he’s been lookin’ for me too. Maybe it wasn’t just me that’s been lost. Maybe we found each other. I touch my nose to the side of his head and breathe in the scent of his hair, lettin’ my eyes fall shut. He’s mine now. All mine, and no else’s. 

“So tell me,” I murmur. “What’s a guy like me gotta do to have a sweet little thing like you all to myself, and maybe take some place quiet?” 

He hums in thought, pulling away a little to gaze up at me, and once more he bites that sexy bottom lip of his. 

With the way he’s lookin’ at me right now, I don’t imagine it will take much at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	9. Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I have to be crazy to want this, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["I Wanna Be Yours"–Arctic Monkeys](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=nyuo9-OjNNg&feature=share)

ASH-

I must be absolutely out my of mind right now, because the only thing I can think of is how to keep this man in my life, as long as I possibly can, and never let him slip through my fingers again. I have to be crazy to want this, right? I mean, I watched this guy beat the shit out of people, and I was told, worded very specifically, that he served a prison sentence for attempted murder. I’ve totally lost my marbles. But I mean, fuck, he feels so good, and with the way he’s smirking at me like that…

He really does like me, huh? I’m starting think maybe he’s just kind of shy, or at least not very open about his sexuality. Makes sense, considering the kind of people he likes to hang around. Maybe that night at Riders, he wanted to come talk to me, maybe get close to me, but he was worried about how his friends might react to it. Maybe he didn’t want their jokes or comments. Maybe he didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. Or make _me_ uncomfortable, because I was pretty scared.

But I can’t even think of being scared of him right now. No, fear is not what I feel at all. Not with the way he’s holding me in his arms right now, like I’m the most precious thing in the world, and he really doesn’t want to let me go either. I just can’t believe he’s here. I breathe in and out, and I smell his cologne. I don’t know what it is, but I absolutely _love_ the smell of it. He also smells faintly of beer and cigarettes, and I bet he was probably over at Riders before he wandered in.

“So tell me,” he murmurs in my ear, giving me chills. “What’s a guy like me gotta do to have a sweet little thing like you all to myself, and maybe take some place quiet?”

Hmm, how about have a car and an apartment? Oh I’m _so_ easy to get into tonight. Maybe not for anyone else, but for Brody? _Hell yes_. I would go anywhere with this man. Anywhere he’d take me. I might regret it later on, but right now I don’t really care. I pretend to ponder his question a little longer and pull away to meet his gaze. Even the look he’s got in his eyes is different tonight. I don’t see a guy looking like he wants to murder me anymore. Instead I just see hunger. 

This is a man that has been starving, and I am mana from heaven.

I bite my lip. But just as I’m about to respond, suddenly I’m ripped away from him by someone else grabbing me by the arm. I totally forgot there were even other people in this club, and one of them I was talking to before I bumped into him. Tyler grabs me by the arm and yanks me away from Brody. “Ow!” I yelp, because his grip is way too tight and it actually hurts. Oh but then the murderous glare is back on Brody’s face, aimed at Tyler. “What the fuck, Tyler! Let go of my arm!”

“You told me you were just going to get some air and now I see you all over _this_ guy?!” he growls at me, squeezing tighter and I wince. Huge mistake on his part, because Brody sneers at him, and I get the feeling that pretty soon there’s going to be a very nasty confrontation Tyler isn’t likely to survive. I glare daggers at him though. Like seriously, how dare Tyler treat me like I’m his property?! Just because I promised a dance with him doesn’t mean I belong to him in any way.

The fucking _nerve_ this guy has! “Let go of me!” I try to pull away but he just won’t let go, and I think he’s one of those insanely jealous and possessive types that once they stake their claim on someone they just don’t know when to quit. He starts to drag me away from Brody, who reaches out and snatches him by the collar of his jacket, dragging him back. Tyler doesn’t notice, but when I hear the distinct sound of a blade being pulled out of his pocket and flicked open, my eyes widen. Shit!

He’s going to stab this guy over me!

“He said let him go!” Brody growls at him, with every bit of that dark, ominous edge to his voice that I heard the night we met. Tyler tries to pry his hand off his collar.

“Get your hands off me!” he threatens, but it isn’t nearly as terrifying as Brody.

“Did you not hear him too good?” Brody sneers, yanking him by the collar. “Or maybe you just didn’t hear _me_.”

“Screw you, asshole!”

“Let him go.” He jerks him closer. “Now.”

While Tyler is distracted with Brody I take the opportunity to wrench myself free of his grasp and get between them. I don’t pull Tyler back from him, but instead I plaster myself to Brody, slipping my arm around him. “It’s okay, Brody. Just let him go. I’m fine, okay? Just let him go.” He slowly lets his hand drop away from him. I turn and glance back at Tyler. “Get lost, Tyler! I mean it! I’m not interested, and I’m never going to be, so just leave me alone!” He hesitates, scowling. “I said fuck off already!”

Yeah, I’ve made my choice. I have the man I want, and I clutch him tighter.

“Whatever,” Tyler scoffs and walks away, pushing through the crowd. “Slut!”

“Bitch!” I fire back, then turn back to Brody, who’s still glaring daggers at his back, but now he’s got his arm around me again, softly brushing his fingers up and down my spine. “Hey, look at me,” I say, and he looks down at me, all of that anger disappearing. I let my hand slide down his arm to where he clutches the knife with an iron grip, then I gently brush his knuckles. “Why don’t you put that away, huh?” I ask him gently. “He’s gone now. You don’t need it anymore.”

He looks down at it, like he just realized he’s holding it. He relaxes, looks kind of sheepish for a second or two, as he slides the blade back in the handle and shoves it back in his pocket, glancing around nervously. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but I smile at him.

“It’s okay. You know that’s _twice_ now that you’ve come to my rescue.”

He shucks at me, even seems maybe kind of bashful for a second, then he slips his other arm around me. “So who was that asshole, anyway?” he asks.

“Just some jerk who couldn’t take a hint,” I answer.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Oh yeah,” I nod, running my hands up and down his back. “Yeah, I’m much better now.”

His smile widens. It’s not just a smirk now, but a grin, and _wow_ when Brody smiles is he fucking handsome! I need to keep him just like this for all eternity. I wonder if I can. “You know, I still owe you a drink,” I remind him. “You still interested?” He hums in thought, growing more serious as he contemplates my offer, eyes darting over me. Then he reaches up to cradle my face, slowly running his thumb over my cheek, from the side of my nose all the way across, right over my freckles. 

His eyes drop to my mouth. “I think there’s somethin’ else I kinda want instead,” he tells me. Then his hand slips down a little, and his thumb brushes over my mouth. Fuck. I have the inexplicable urge to just take that thumb and tease it with my tongue, maybe suck on it a little, to really drive him crazy, give him a taste of what he might get later. His other hand slips under my shirt and I feel his warm calloused fingers slide over my bare skin, then he leans down and touches his lips to mine.

“You’ve got good taste,” I murmur against his mouth before standing on my toes to meet him halfway, pressing my lips to his. Oh and he’s good too. First he just teases me with these soft presses of his lips to mine, and nibbling my bottom lip, then teasing me with just the tip of his tongue brushing mine. I’m already breathless by the time he delves deeper with his tongue, sweeping the back of mine just once. Then again, and again. Pretty soon I’m hot all over and can barely breathe at all.

All the while his hands gently roam over me, and soon mine are snaking upward to curl them around his neck as I press tightly against him. My heart is in my throat, I’m lit up from excitement and arousal, and god I want to fuck him so badly. But there are so many other things I want too. My brain can’t process all of my needs, because there are just too many at once. All I know is one thing: I might be crazy to want him, but I would be truly and undoubtedly _stupid_ to ever let him go.

The kiss is slow and sensual, yet so full of raw passion, almost like he’s pouring out his heart to me in that moment, and suddenly I want to give him mine. Give him everything I have. When he pulls away I almost want to burst into tears at the loss. But my eyes blink open and stare into his. I get a glimpse of it just then. Of the man that’s been hiding behind the tattoos, the beer, cigarettes and rock music, the violence and the chaos. The vulnerable man that’s buried underneath all that.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asks me, and I all I can do is nod because I’ve lost my voice.

He smiles and takes me by the hand. He leads and I follow him out of the club, then onto the street. I still haven’t found my voice yet as we walk down the sidewalk, hand in hand. Every once in a while I spare a glance at him, and every once in a while he does the same. He’s still smiling, and half a block from the club I realize I have been too. I’ve got this stupid cheesy grin on my face that I just can’t seem to wipe off. We’re walking in the direction of Riders though, and my heart pounds.

“I’m parked over by Riders,” he says by way of explanation. “Thought maybe we could go somewhere and get a bite to eat?”

Awe. That just makes me smile wider. Because while it’s obvious he wants to sleep with me, first he wants to take me somewhere we can just hang out and talk, get to know one another. Like a date. It’s infinitely sweet and I kind of feel like I’m sixteen all over again, blushing and smiling, getting ready to go on my first real date with a guy. Not just out with some friends to grab a burger or see a movie, but just the two of us, holding hands and whatnot. “That sounds great,” I tell Brody.

The closer we get to the bar the more anxious I get though. So does he. When we see the neon lights I look up to catch him chewing his lip. But he doesn’t let go of my hand. I wouldn’t mind if he did. No, I don’t like having to hide my interest in men from people, but to save him from getting in another altercation with the group hanging around outside? Yeah I don’t really think it’s worth it. But as we cross the street and head toward the black car parked further down, he squeezes my hand.

Amazingly, he doesn’t care if people see it. When I think about it, I guess it kind of makes sense? Like, he does seem like the kind of guy that’s just going to do whatever the hell he wants, consequences be damned. But I do also see him stuff his other hand in his pocket, and I don’t have to know him all that well to know he’s gripping the knife inside, just in case there’s trouble. It’s all in his body language. Also, a bit of an ode to the fact that I _know_ there’s a switchblade in that pocket. 

We walk past the group of people to his car, and they stare at us. They eye us with disgust, like how dare two men be walking down the street holding hands. Luckily they don’t stare at us long though, and go back to whatever conversation they were having, like we’re not even worth the trouble, or worth their time. Brody unlocks his Cougar and we hop inside. He starts the engine, then reaches in his pocket for his phone, takes it out, and plugs it into the stereo with an aux chord.

“What kind of music you like?” he asks me.

I shrug. “I’ll listen to anything really.”

“Alright.” He puts on a song that I recognize and my eyes threaten to pop out of my head.

“You like Mikky Ekko?” I ask, and he chuckles.

“Yeah. I’ve been kind of obsessed with him lately. There’s just somethin’ about his music that gets to me.”

“Okay I’m sorry but I’m way too curious now.” I pick up his phone and scroll through his playlist. He watches me with this half amused, half bewildered smirk, as I scroll through all his songs, and oh my god! It’s really not what you would expect from someone like him. That looks, acts and talks the way he does, and with the type of guys he hangs around at Riders. It’s chuck full of soft rock and pop songs, by artists like Train, Coldplay and even The Frey, as well as a shit ton of Mikky Ekko.

There’s even a few songs by Matchbox Twenty and at that I completely melt. Oh and ninety percent of the songs are all love songs too! He’s secretly a big softie, isn’t he? I clamp my hand over my mouth, stifling laughter. “What?” he says, confused as to why I’m suddenly tearing up from laughter and shifting around in my seat as it bubbles over and finally I can’t contain it anymore. It’s just too adorable! Oh there is no way he’s getting rid of me now. No way in hell. I snort a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just…it’s just so cute that on the outside you’re all mean and scary but like, on the inside you’re all soft and squishy!” I crack up again. “I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me! It’s just…It’s just so cute!”

He doesn’t get made at me or anything, just kind of sighs and shakes his head at me, and the whole time he’s smiling. “Alright,” he chuckles. “So where ya wanna go?”

I lean over and place my hand on his forearm where it rests between us, hand on the shifter, then I squeeze his arm affectionately.

“Anywhere you’ll take me,” I smile. “Anywhere with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	10. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I think it’s about time I’m completely honest._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["Say When"–The Fray](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=666AWAogXh4&feature=share)

BRODY-

I take him to this little diner across town that’s open ‘til midnight. One of those old places, that looks like it ain’t changed much since it first opened back in ‘58, with a jukebox playin’ Elvis when we walk in. I suppose I could have taken him back to my place, or suggested we go to his, but no. This ain’t gonna be like all the ones before, where it goes no further than the back seat of my car. No, I’m doin’ things right this time around. I’m gonna put it all on the table with this one, even if I regret it.

I’ll put it all out there, heart on my sleeve, and give him all I’ve got. I may not have much to offer, but what I offer is everything, and I’ll do my very best to show him I’m worth his time. My heart is racin’ in my chest and I’m nervous as hell, but tryin’ not to show it, as we walk inside and find an empty booth. There are a few other people here, but it’s not that busy at the moment so the chick behind the counter comes around almost immediately to take our order as we sit down. 

“What can I get you guys?” she asks with a bright smile.

“I’ll have a Coke,” I say, and Ashton shrugs.

“I’ll have the same,” he says with a nod. Again, she smiles, flipping her little pad closed, then walks away, but she glances back every once in a while, eyes lingering on me.

“I think somebody likes you,” Ashton chuckles and I sigh. “I can see why,” he adds, looking me over for a second. Yeah, she’ll probably hit on me at some point. Can’t let that happen.

“She’ll just have to suffer,” I say, leaning forward and propping my elbows on the table. I stretch out my hands, palms up, wiggling my fingers a little. He smirks, catching my meaning and leans forward too, placing his hands in mine. I don’t even bother to check to see the waitress’s reaction to it, because now our faces are inches apart and all I see is him. I can’t take my eyes off him. Kinda just wanna stay just like this, just how we are now, and hit the pause button on life indefinitely.

“Alright, tell me everything,” I say, and his brows raise.

“Everything?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I wanna know everything there is to know about you.”

He smirks. “That’s a conversation that could take all night.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say, and he chuckles at me. But then he sighs a little.

“You know what, I’ll just rip it off like a band-aid.” He takes a breath. “I’m Ashton Kingston, I’m twenty-eight, I’m a retail associate wasting a college degree, who loves any and all animals, especially dogs, but I can’t have pets in my apartment, and I’m lonely and miserable, so I stuff my face with Ben & Jerry’s and cry myself to sleep every night.”

“Damn,” I quip, and he nods.

“Yeah. Pathetic I know. Okay, your turn.”

“Alright.” I inhale. “I’m Brody Eckhart, I’m thirty-four, and I’m a certified mechanic who’s goin’ nowhere in life, that can’t seem to make a relationship last any longer than hookin’ up in the back seat of my car, because I’m afraid that if I open up and let someone into my life they’ll run screaming from me…and I _also_ cry myself to sleep every night.”

He snorts. “You know I was actually being serious,” he says to me. 

“So was I,” I tell him. He sucks in a breath.

“Wow. So we’re both kind of hopeless then.”

“Yeah I guess so.”

The waitress walks up to us with the drinks we ordered. She sets them down, but neither of us are paying any attention until she clears her throat. “Are you guys ready to order?” she chirps at us, big smile on her face, but I can tell this one’s fake. I could care less though. I couldn’t care if every person in this place is starin’ at us. I’m not even payin’ attention, because all I see is him still. The waitress takes our order and walks away, then I’m left alone with Ashton once more. 

“So you’re a mechanic,” he says, sipping his Coke, glazing over everything else I said like my hang ups with serious relationships aren’t even an issue for him. “You like working with your hands, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of the only thing I’m good at really,” I chuckle. “But I love it though. Can’t really imagine myself doin’ anything else. I mean it’s not much or anything, but I like it. I just like fixin’ somethin’ that’s broken. When other people wanna give up on it, I’m not ready to. Not like it’s a spectacular thing, but it makes me happy, I guess. Makes me feel like I did somethin’ worthwhile.” I laugh again. “Even if all I’m doin’ is just fixin’ a brake line.”

He smiles at me. “At least you enjoy it,” he says. “That’s what really matters. You’re lucky that way. Me I absolutely hate my job.”

“Well, at least you’re around people,” I shrug. “You seem more like a people person.”

“Kind of? I mean it depends on the person really, but yeah.”

“But you went to college though?”

“I did. I was going to be a doctor but I chickened out, quit pre-med, got my degree as a nursing assistant instead. But when I graduated, the hospital wasn’t taking on any new staff, and I was already in debt, my student loans were piling up, so I just took the first job I could find. I’ve been stuck there ever since, waiting for something to open up somewhere. I’ve given my resume to every doctor’s office in this city but no one’s contacted me yet. So yeah I’m just kind of stuck right now.”

“I’m sure you’ll find somethin’.”

“I hope so.” He stares down at where our hands are joined for a moment. “You know, maybe we’re not all that mismatched,” he says, still smiling, brushing his thumb over the top of my hand. “You like fixing cars, I like fixing people. We both like fixing something that’s broken.”

“You know, you might be onto somethin’ there,” I say, and his smile widens.

I don’t know though. We still seem like very different people. He’s nice, he likes helping others, he likes animals, and I like all those things about him, but…but I’m not that great of a catch for him. My heart is still racing because I know the second I really, truly open up about myself–and my past–it’s gonna be over. This kid is gonna run screaming. But, I don’t know, maybe I can make him see that I’m more than that. That I’m really not the guy some people think I am. I know I’m kinda rough, but…

His phone starts ringing in his pocket, startling the both us. He lets go of me to fish for it, and I miss the touch already. But he pulls it out and his eyes widen when he sees who’s calling. “Uh-oh,” he says, and then winces like he knows he’s in big trouble now. “I forgot to tell my sister I was leaving,” he says, then answers the phone. “Hey Steph.” I kinda wanna laugh when I hear a voice on the other end of the phone shrill the words, “Where the fuck are you?!” So loud even I can hear it.

Ashton has to hold the phone away from his ear while she screams at him. “I’m sorry,” he groans. “I forgot to tell you I was leaving…No, no I’m fine, I just, well, I bumped into someone,” He shoots me a glance, chewing on his lip, “Yes, I’m with him right now. We just left to grab something to eat and–and catch up.” He nervously runs his fingers through his hair while she talks. Then he sighs in exasperation. “Seriously I’m fine, okay?…Yes, I’ll call you…Love you too. Bye.”

He hangs up, then sets his phone on the table and smashes his face in his hands. “Oh my god,” he sighs, shaking his head. Then he pops up. “Sorry. That was…”

I chuckle. “It’s alright. Your sister really seems to care a lot about you.”

“I’m lucky to have her. She’s my best friend. But she’s constantly nagging me and driving me crazy.”

“Yeah I have one of those too,” I say, then I take a drink. He smirks.

“Del, is it?” he asks and I nod. His brows raise at me.

“You know he’s really not that bad,” I assure him. “He’s just kinda ignorant that’s all. I mean he really don’t have no problem with people like us or anything, he just…he’s around a lot of ignorant people and it rubs off on him. It’s…it’s just the way he talks. I gotta correct him all the time though. Been tryna get him to stop usin’ the f word so much. It’s just a word to him though. He don’t mean it like an insult. To him it’s just the same as callin’ someone gay. To him it means the same thing.” 

I scratch my head a little, then add, “I keep tryna tell him that what he’s sayin’ and what other people are hearin’ are two different things, and he gets it, but he slips up every once in a while and he forgets. He’s just kinda dumb really.”

Ashton slowly nods at all that, just soaking it in. “But he knows you’re into guys?” he asks me and I nod. He thinks for a second. “If you don’t mind me asking, how come you hang around guys like them? Like, Del and his uncle and all the rest?”

I shrug a little. “They’re kinda the only people I have,” I say. “I’ve known ‘em all for years. I know ‘em all through Del, and Del and I have been friends since we were little kids. Kinda don’t have anybody else. I was a foster kid. My parents were out of the picture before I was even old enough to really remember ‘em. I loved my foster mom though.” I chuckle a little, thinking about her. “She was this little old black lady that’d hit the back of my leg with her cane whenever I acted up.”

Ashton snickers at that. “I bet she did that a lot.”

“Yeah, all the time. She was great though. She loved kids. She was always lookin’ after the whole neighborhood. When anybody had a problem, they’d go to her. Everybody called her Momma, even the adults. Most kids went back to their parents when they got straightened up, got a better place to live, or got off whatever drugs they were on, but me I stayed with her ‘til I was sixteen. Got emancipated, got myself a job, and it’s just been me ever since.”

“Wow,” he quips. “So Del, Axel and everybody, they’re kind of your family?” he asks, and I nod.

“More or less. They don’t mind so much that I’m gay either, long as they ain’t gotta see me all over some guy, and it’s not like I come on to ‘em or anything. I really ain’t got no interest in any one of them. They’re not bad people, they’re just kinda rough, that’s all. Axel’s a Pagan though, and while he don’t mind me so much, the rest of the club is a different story. They don’t like any kind of outsiders. I really don’t like them all that much either. When they come around is when I disappear.”

“Isn’t Del a member too though?” Ashton asks me. “I saw him wearing their vest.”

“Nah. That’s his dad’s vest. He wanted Del to have it when he passed away. They had a lot of respect for his old man so they let him wear it. But he ain’t a member of their club. He ain’t really cut out for that kind of life. So what about you? Got any other family, or just your sister?”

He shrugs. “Well, her and my mom and dad. They’re great, and I’m lucky to have them. Some people…some people aren’t that lucky.” His eyes meet mine for a second. “They’re very supportive. But they’re kind of a headache though, because every time I sit down to dinner with them they pester me about settling down with a guy, and I’m kind of running out of excuses to make as to why the relationships don’t work out. But I just…just can’t seem to find the right one.”

He gets nervous for a second, like he didn’t mean to say that last part, and he fidgets, pulling one of the napkins from the canister to fiddle with it, like he’s just tryna keep his hands busy. I kinda start gettin’ nervous too, because the more we talk the more I like him, and I’m startin’ to think that maybe I’m just not right for him at all. Talkin’ about my fucked up life and my fucked up family kinda makes me feel like shit. But I need him to know that he won’t have to worry about any of that.

I would never hurt him and I would never let anyone else hurt him either. Judgin’ by his tone, I can tell he’s been hurt enough times in the past, and I don’t want to be just another one of those relationships that don’t work out for him. But all he’s seen from me is violence. All he’s seen is how bad I can be when someone I don’t like pisses me off. I don’t want that to be the only side of me he knows. I reach across the table to take his hand once more. 

I think it’s about time I’m completely honest.

“Ashton, I…About what happened back there in the club, and that night, over at Riders…I’m sorry about that.” Because I’m nervous and scared my words just kind of tumble out in a rush. “I really didn’t mean to get so pissed off like that, it’s just when I see somethin’ I don’t like, I react to it. When I see people doin’ bad things it just makes me wanna do bad things to them too and sometimes it’s hard to control it, but I don’t want you to be scared of me. I would never hurt you.”

“No, Brody, it’s okay–”

“Nah, it really ain’t. I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m that kinda guy. I’m really not. Not at all. I-I just…I’ve done some bad things in the past and…and you seein’ me like that tonight–”

“Brody, it’s alright. I’m not upset with you. I mean yeah I kind of freaked out a little because you had a knife? But I’m not angry with you or anything. It’s just that Del told me you went to prison for stabbing someone and I kind of didn’t want you to go back?” He chuckles a little. “I just don’t think it’s really worth spending the rest of your life behind bars just for I don’t know ‘defending my honor’ or something? I mean it’s very sweet of you, but I really don’t think it’s worth your life.”

I blink rapidly when it finally hits me what he just said. “Del told you I went to prison?”

“Yeah, and he told me why, so that’s why I was kind of worried, you know, that it would happen again? But…”

“He told you, and you still went out with me.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” I blurt out, in disbelief. He chuckles. Then he squeezes my hand tighter.

“Because I’d like to think that a person’s actions define them a lot more clearly than their rap sheet.” 

I exhale, every bone in my body suddenly feelin’ like rubber. He already knows. He knew this whole time. Yet he still took a chance on me. Shit. Kinda feel stupid now. I let my head drop to my chest for a second and just breathe. He’s not goin’ anywhere. I run my thumb over his knuckles. His hands are so much softer than mine. “You said you like fixin’ people,” I mumble. “Any chance you think you might be any good at fixin’ broken ex cons that ain’t really got much to offer a guy?”

He slowly shakes his head. “I can’t fix something that isn’t broken.”

I kinda wanna cry at that. 

He doesn’t think I’m broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	11. More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I really don’t want to go home, unless it’s only to finish what we’ve started right here, because I’m not ready to say goodnight._
> 
> _I’ve already had a small taste, and I need more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["Perfect"–Smashing Pumpkins](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=5DZ-ZlT9wiA&feature=share)

ASH-

The more we talk, the more I want to know about him, because the more he opens up to me, the less and less I see him as just some crazy psycho, and the more I see of the shy, soft spoken and surprisingly sweet guy underneath. His friends might be questionable, but the more Brody talks about them, the less terrible they seem too. Maybe they’re not the best influence, but nobody’s perfect. On the outside we seem so different, but I think it’s just because we’ve lived very different lives. 

He tells me some of the crazy things he’s gotten into with Del over the years, bar fights and other shenanigans, and the more he talks the more Del just sounds like this lovable idiot of a sidekick, kind of like what Stephanie is to me. Brody himself just seems more like a lonely outcast that doesn’t really fit in anywhere, just like me. I tell him more about my quirky family, dad’s low-key obsession with professional hockey, and mom’s determination to set me up with everybody’s nephew. 

We’re still talking, even after we’ve finished our meal. We’re so caught up in conversation that we don’t notice how late it’s getting, until the server behind the counter comes over to our booth. “Uhm, we’re getting ready to close now? So…” She sounds kind of snippy. I think she’s still pissed to find that the hunky guy with the tattoos is gay, and on a date with me. But it looks like we’ve overstayed our welcome, and it’s midnight already. But I really don’t want this night to end.

“Oh, we were just leaving,” I smile up at her, then turn back to Brody. “And…maybe going back to your place?” I suggest, worrying my lip with my teeth. He shrugs a little.

“We don’t have to,” he tells me. “I can just take you home if you want.”

No, that’s not what I want at all. 

Cinderfella is definitely not ready to smash this gorgeous pumpkin just yet.

I really don’t want to go home, unless it’s only to finish what we’ve started right here, because I’m not ready to say goodnight.

I’ve already had a small taste, and I need more.

Plus I think the two of us going back to his place to hang and talk, maybe fool around a little, is just what we both need. I can understand why he’s hesitant, and believe me I have plenty of reasons to hesitate too, but I think one too many people have written off a guy like Brody at first glance. I think of every guy I’ve ever dated and can imagine every single one of them running from somebody like Brody as soon as they hear the words “knife” and “stabbed”. 

Too many times this man has been afraid of letting someone in because of his past, so he doesn’t take them home. Well, I already know what I’m getting into, and I think it’s time Brody takes a guy somewhere other than to the back seat of his car. It’s time to let someone in, and maybe have something more. I’ll worry about my hang ups with sex at a later date. Burn that bridge when we cross it maybe. He might not even like that sort of thing. Not all guys are interested in anal. 

So I lean over the table between us, and peck his lips with a kiss. “Let’s go back to your place, and maybe you can show me that car you’ve been telling me about?”

He smiles. “Alright.”

*

He lives kind of far outside of town. Not too far, but just enough outside city limits that we don’t hear the city traffic anymore. We roll down the windows and hang our arms out of the car as we listen to Brody’s song list playing softly on the stereo. It’s so quiet otherwise, with nothing but the sounds of the engine, tires rolling over asphalt, then gravel when we reach his driveway. His place used to be a storefront, he tells me, and it looks like just the kind of place he’d make a home.

He shifts into park, turns to me and says, “You ready?” I nod. He reaches up and presses the button on the garage door opener clipped to his sun visor. The headlights of the Cougar shine on the body of a 1967 Ford Shelby and I smile. He shuts the car off and we get out, then I watch as he heads over to the switch and flips the light on. I get a much better look at it up close and with the fluorescent lights overhead. Brody’s eyes are filled with pride as he gazes at the half finished car.

This is his obsession, he told me. He bought the old, rusted body from a car collector. It was just wasting space sitting in his warehouse, so he cut Brody a good deal on it. Del held onto it for him while he was locked up, and from the moment he got out, this has been his pet project, where all of his spare time and money goes, on fixing it up and restoring it to its original condition. “It’s been difficult,” he says. “I have to specially order everything, and it’s hard findin’ all the original parts.”

“I didn’t even know they still made them,” I say and he shrugs.

“Replicas,” he says. “There’s a company I go through that makes them, modeled after the original. It’s expensive, but it’s worth it. I kind of just want it to be as close as possible to the original. Just to see if I can do it. Might take me years before it’s road ready, but it’s just…I don’t know, just makes me feel like I’m breathin’ life back into somethin’…Sometimes I look at that car and all the work I’ve done so far and…it makes me feel like if I can fix that, then…I don’t know, maybe I can fix anything, I guess.”

“Makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something?” I ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, like I’ve done somethin’ worthwhile. Like I’m…like I’m more than just what’s on my rap sheet, I suppose.”

I can’t help but grin at that. I think he’s more. Much, much more than that.

“I think it’s going to look great when it’s finished,” I say as I look at the car, and all around the room where pieces and parts are scattered about along with shelves and counters covered in tools. I’ve never been very much of a car fanatic, but I can understand why Brody enjoys it. It’s the same reason I wanted to be a doctor. Solving problems, fixing things, also made me feel worthwhile. Maybe Brody gets that same feeling every time he’s at work, and diagnoses a problem on a vehicle.

I think we’re far more alike than maybe he realizes. But I don’t think he needs to restore a classic car just to be worth something. Call me crazy, but I think maybe he just needs someone in his life to show him that. Just like he’s trying to give this car a second chance, I think he needs someone to give him that same chance. That’s all. I watch him walk over to the Shelby and pop the hood on it, then I listen to him talk about the engine and he even knows various factoids about the car itself.

Then I ask, “Would you ever maybe want some help with it?” He quirks a brow at me.

“You’d actually be interested?” he asks, like he’s surprised. I shrug a little.

“Well, I don’t know anything about cars, but I can hold a wrench.”

He chuckles. “I’d love that actually,” he tells me. “I wouldn’t mind just havin’ some company while I work on it. You know, if you wanted. We could just talk and stuff.” 

“Alright. What about right now?” I ask.

“Now?” he repeats and I nod. He looks me over. “Might have to do somethin’ about that shirt though? Might get dirty, and it looks kind of expensive.”

I snort. It wasn’t _that_ expensive. But, okay, yeah, I see what he’s saying. “I have an idea then,” I say and start pulling it up over my head. Then I toss it on the nearest counter. “Problem solved.”

Brody bites his lip. The second my shirt came off that smolder in his eyes came back, and now he’s looking at me like working on a car is the very _last_ thing he wants to do right now. I guess dragging my lazy ass out of bed every once in a while to hit the gym and work out my frustrations is starting to pay off, because he likes what he sees. It only takes a second of contemplation before he pushes away from the car and pounces me, arms slipping around me, mouth on mine in a steamy hot kiss.

Suddenly I can’t think of anything else either. It’s not slow like before, this time it’s all raging passion, and soon he’s lifting me up into his arms like I weigh nothing. I really don’t weigh that much though. Last time I checked I’m something like 132 lbs? Brody is amazingly strong too, and starts to turn, walking towards the steps nearby, to take me upstairs to his apartment while we make out. He gets the door open and switches on the nearest lamp, then carries me toward the bed.

It’s all one room starting with a kitchen that morphs into a living space, then into a bedroom, and there’s a separate enclosure for the bathroom. I like his apartment. Even the black and white checkered tile on the floors. Shades are pulled down over the windows, blocking out the light from his neighbor’s flood light, softening the glow, and a ceiling fan slowly turning about. A king sized bed that’s as soft as a feather when he lays me on it and I think I could just stay here forever.

But even though he’s adamant, he’s still very considerate. He’s not rough at all. Just slowly, gently lays me down, and it’s so sweet, kind of romantic even, and I like it. A little too much. The way he touches me, starts slowly moving away from my mouth and kissing me all over. His teeth eventually find my left nipple, he tugs on it a little, and _oh my god_, I need him out of these clothes like right now, so I pull on his shirt. He sits back on his calves to pull up over his head. Fuck, he’s so sexy.

Both his nipples are pierced too. Each have a tiny surgical steel bar in them and it makes me just want to tease them for hours. Me, I’ve always been too squeamish with that kind of thing, so I’ve never attempted any piercings besides both ears, but Brody makes it look hot as hell. Pretty soon he comes back to me, kissing and biting softly, making me gasp and moan with each touch. Then I feel him go for my pants, undoing the button and then unzipping my fly. My heart races.

Shit. I…I don’t know if I can do this.

I really didn’t think this situation through, did I?

I’m scrambling for mental purchase, trying to think of how I can prevent the inevitable. I’ve come up with little tricks over the years to avoid getting overly emotional, though mostly I stick with oral sex to avoid making things weird. Brody doesn’t seem like he’s leaning toward just making it quick though. Not with the way he’s teasing me. My breath hitches. “You can be rough, if you want,” I blurt out. That’s a trick that works. “You don’t have to go slow or anything. I’m not made of glass.”

He chuckles a little against my skin. “Nah, baby,” he murmurs shaking his head. “I mean unless you want me to. But I ain’t rushin’ this. I wanna take my time with you.” Oh fuck. I really want that too. Like, I want the kind of sex that takes hours. Where by the end of it both of us are shaking and spent, can barely move and just doze in a pile of sweat afterwards. That’s what I really want. But I don’t want to freak him out when I burst into tears during and ruin everything. Shit shit shit!

What do I do here? Do I just tell him the truth? Or do I lie to him? My mind races as his fingers curl into my waistband, then he slowly works my pants and underwear down. _Lie_, my brain tells me. _Lie right through your teeth!_ “Shit, Brody, wait!” I say and his head pops up. I palm my face. “I just remembered I have to work tomorrow,” I groan. Okay, so it’s not a total lie, I do have to work tomorrow, but I was just going to call in sick. “I totally spaced. I wasn’t even thinking.”

“Shit,” he curses and sits back a little, reaching in his pocket. He pulls out his phone and checks the time. “Damn, it’s like 1:30,” he chuckles. “I kept you up _way_ past your bedtime, huh? My bad, baby. Just kinda got carried away. I’m sorry ‘bout that.”

Wait, he’s apologizing? Oh and he’s still calling me ‘baby’ too. Just the way he says that word makes me melt. He’s not angry with me either, nor even really all that disappointed it seems, just maybe kind of sheepish, like it’s totally his fault that I forgot and he feels bad for keeping me out too late. But at no point do I feel like this is over between us if I don’t sleep with him tonight. He just comes up to peck me on the lips with tender kisses and he bites my bottom lip.

Then he says, “Guess we’ll just have to wait a little longer, huh?” I sigh and nod, and he stands up, reaching out to help me up and scoop his shirt off the floor. He kisses me one last time, thumb brushing my cheek. He’s still smiling at me too. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

*

I feel horrible for ending things so abruptly between us, especially when I feel like we might actually have some great chemistry together, but that’s kind of why I did it though. Because I don’t want to ruin things between us and I think I just need more time to sort out my feelings here. I think about it in the car ride home, but I’m still smiling though, also remembering everything else that happened tonight, and how every second I spend with Brody is a second more I think I sincerely like him.

He pulls up in front of my apartment building and shifts into park. “This is it,” I say, then point to my window. “That’s me up there.” He leans over to look, lifting a brow. “Thank you,” I say. “I had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” he tells me. We share a look, and I can’t help it, I lean in to kiss him again. When we break apart I feel something tugging on my heart to stay, maybe invite him upstairs and try this again. Maybe explain to him the real reason why I’m pulling back. But I’m not sure if he’ll understand, and won’t just think I’m a freak. I mean, sure, he’s ridiculously sweet, evidently extremely patient as well, which are good signs, but I don’t want to send him mixed signals and just confuse him.

We both sigh a little, knowing the night has officially come to an end. “Can I give you my number?” he asks me. “Maybe we can do this again real soon.”

I smile and nod, handing him my phone so he can put his number in. Then I hit the dial button, calling his phone. He smiles when he feels it vibrating in his pocket. “Now you have mine too,” I say.

“You gonna call me for real?” he asks. “Soon maybe?”

“Yeah,” I promise, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll call you.”

One more kiss, then I get out of the car. I walk up to the door and glance back periodically, smiling at him. He waits until I’m safely inside my building before he pulls away. But when I close the door behind me I lean against it, frowning. Suddenly my anxiety spikes again and my heart pounds in my ears. My palms feel sweaty and I fiddle nervously with my keys. I…I honestly don’t know if I’ll call him actually. I might never. Because once he finds out just how fucked up I really am…

Maybe it’s better this way. Better if I just don’t ever see him again.

At least that way he’ll always sit and dream up what _could_ have been, instead of _knowing_ how bad it really is.

Then I’ll always be perfect in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	12. Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I swear I think I hear those birds outside singin’ just for me. That’s just how fuckin’ good I feel today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song:["Get To Me"–Train](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=KCouZ8iZvOE&feature=share)

BRODY-

I swear I think I hear those birds outside singin’ just for me. That’s just how fuckin’ good I feel today. When I got up this mornin’, made myself a pot of coffee and some breakfast, I peaked out the window to see the sun shinin’, beautiful blue skies, and I could hear those birds chirpin’. I started smilin’, and I ain’t been able to wipe that smile off my face all damn day. I’ve got the garage doors open now, ‘cause it’s nice outside, and I’ve got music on while I work on the Shelby.

I just…I’ve never felt like this before. Thinkin’ about last night with Ashton, it’s like I feel brand new. I’ve even felt like workin’ on the car again, finally installing those new parts. Somethin’ about chillin’ with him in the garage last night, talkin’ about it, well, it reminded me of why I was doin’ it in the first place. I’ve got all this energy too. I don’t know where it came from, but I’ve got it, so I might as well put it to good use. So I turned on my Bluetooth and hooked my phone up to the stereo.

I don’t expect him to call me right now, ‘cause I know he’s workin’, but I’ve got my phone nearby at all times just in case. I can’t wait to see him again. Last night was fuckin’ wonderful. Even though he had to go home. But I’m actually kind of glad he remembered he has to work, that we didn’t get that far, because I really want every moment spent with him to mean somethin’. I don’t wanna half ass any of that shit, you know? I wanna take my time, plan it out better. Make it special somehow.

Have hours to devote to pleasin’ him, just the way he likes. I get excited, heart racin’ in my chest just thinkin’ about it. I think about a lot of things actually. I think about takin’ him out to dinner, some place nice, maybe to a movie. Or hell, maybe we just throw a bag in the back seat of my car and drive to the beach or somethin’. Fuck, I don’t care what we do, just as long as it’s with him. Sit around in the garage, lay upstairs in bed all day with my arm around him, just talkin’. All those kinds of things.

I’ve just reached into the mini fridge on the counter for a beer and cracked it open, bobbin’ my head and mouthin’ the lyrics to the song that’s playin’, when Del pulls up in his truck. He shuts it off, gets out, slams his truck door and marches up to me. “How’s it goin’,” I say. He squints.

“The fuck are you listin’ to?” he asks me.

I scratch my head, tryna remember the artist. “Train, I think.” I check my phone real quick. “Yeah, yeah that’s who it is.”

“The fuck are you listenin’ ta that shit for?” 

I just smile and shrug. “My house, my music,” I remind him and pluck the cigarette from behind my ear, stick it in my mouth, then reach in my pocket for my lighter. He grimaces a little. “What?”

“It’s just…it’s just so fuckin’ _girly_,” he whines. “Makes me think I’m in some old Britney Spears music video, ya know, one them ones from back when she was still too young ta eye-fuck but everybody just jerked off ta that shit anyway and she badly lip-synced all her shitty lyrics?”

I can’t even be mad right now, and instead I just bust out laughin’ at that, dropping my cigarette.

“Shit, that was _every_ Britney Spears song,” I comment, then reach for my cigarette on the floor and light it.

“Oh would ya just turn it off, please?” he begs. “Or change it ta somethin’ else?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll turn it off,” I sigh, and reach in my pocket to hit the pause button on my phone. “So what’s goin’ on?” I ask him. He shrugs a little.

“Nothin’,” he says. “Just thought I’d stop by. Ya disappeared on me last night.”

“Yeah,” I nod, puffin’ on my cigarette. “Sandy kind of twisted my arm about goin’ to Vice.”

“Oh yeah? So ya finally went did ya?” he asks and I nod. “Well, that explains that stupid grin ya got on your face. Ya finally found ya somebody that’s down to fuck, didn’t ya?”

I chuckle a little, shaking my head. “Nah. It wasn’t like that or nothin’. But yeah, I’m happy about it.”

He rears his head in confusion. “Well, then what the fuck you smilin’ about?”

My grin widens. I turn away for a second to set my beer down on the closest table. I pause just to up the suspense a little. Then finally I say, “I found him.”

“Ya found–”

“I found Ashton, yeah.”

Del’s brows go up at that. “Wait, really? He was there?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I bumped into him. Took him out to eat at this old diner across town and we got to talkin’ and shit. Had to leave though ‘cause the place was closin’ up, so we came back here.”

Del stands up abruptly from where he’s been leanin’ on the counter and frantically looks around. “Y’all didn’t fuck in here, did ya?” he asks, like he’s hopin’ to avoid any place in the garage that might be covered in gizz or some shit. I roll my eyes at him.

“We didn’t do nothin’, Del,” I tell him. But even if we did, I’d lie about it. I’d never give Del any details about what went down. Unless I was mad at him and wanted to fuck with him a little. Then I’d tell him we fucked all over the place. Maybe wait ‘til he sits down on somethin’ and be like, “Not there. We did it there too,” Just to watch him wince and curse, “Goddamn it, Brody, you fuckin’ asshole!” It’s funny to watch him flip out about that shit. That’s why he’ll only ride shotgun in my car.

I get it though. I wanna throw up my guts every time I see him feelin’ up some chick at Riders, grabbin’ her ass and all that shit. Just the thought of bein’ with a woman makes me kinda sick to my stomach. Plus I’d flip out too if I sat down in somebody else’s cum. But right now he just sighs a little and scrubs his face. “So ya finally talked to him did ya?” he asks and I nod. “Well, it’s about damned time ya got your head outta your ass.” I chuckle a little at that. “So ya like him a lot, do ya?”

“Like him? Hell, I think I _love_ him,” I laugh and he shakes his head at me, smilin’.

“Now ya just sound like me.”

“Yeah, I think you’re rubbin’ off on me or somethin’. You’re a bad fuckin’ influence is what you are.”

“Or a good one, maybe, seein’ as how ya finally quit mopin’ about shit,” he points out. 

I shrug a little. “Maybe. So what’d you get into last night?” He grins and waggles his brows. “You gotchya some, huh?”

He nods. “Man, she fuckin’ wore me out though.” He rolls his shoulders. “Think I might be gettin’ kinda outta shape or somethin’. I can’t keep up with ‘em anymore.”

“If you got off your lazy ass and went to a gym every once in a while, you wouldn’t have that problem.”

“Eh that shit costs money though.”

I look around the room. “Fine, you want some heavy liftin’, you can move some shit around in my garage for me. No membership required.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You just want somebody ta clean up this pig sty for free, is what you want,” he huffs, and I laugh.

“Maybe. So what you gettin’ into?”

“Was just gonna head over to Jesse’s. I’d ask if you wanted to come with, but...”

I mull it over a little, then shrug and toss my beer. “Yeah, alright, I’ll go.”

His head spins at that. “Well, shit, that was easy. Didn’t even have to beg an’ plead with ya this time. You really are in a good mood, huh?”

I just shake my head at him, then follow him to his truck after I close up the garage.

Yeah, I am actually. I’m in a real good mood. Things are finally lookin’ up.

*

I’m laughin’ my ass off at somethin’ Del says to me when we pull up in front of Jesse’s place. It’s like mine, kind of out of the way, so to speak. Out by the highway, and his only neighbor is the owner of a junk yard. He lives in a camper parked in the lot next to it. He’s outside with a beer in his hand, sittin’ on a plastic lawn chair under the awning, but still squintin’ and shieldin’ his eyes from the sun with his hand as we get out and walk up. Beside him is Skip, sittin’ with weed in his lap, rollin’ a joint.

Don’t surprise me in the slightest that Skip’s already here. You really won’t see him anywhere else most of the time, except Riders, and never without Jesse. They’re like me and Del. They’re a package deal. A couple of Jokers in a deck, those two. They might be wild sometimes, but they’re two of a kind really. Like two sides of the same coin. Might be opposites, but you won’t ever see one without the other. They’re been best friends for years. Just about as long as I’ve known ‘em.

“Well well, look who it is,” Jesse quips, making Skip look up and drop the weed in his lap in surprise. Yeah, I haven’t been around in a while. Axel and his old lady arrive not long after we do on his bike, pull in next to the truck and hop off. Looks like it’s a party then. Jesse reaches into the red and white Igloo cooler next to his chair and holds out a soaking wet can of Budweiser. “Want one?” he asks me. I pat down my pockets for my cigarettes. Fuck, I left them at the house.

“If you give me a beer, ya gotta give me a cigarette too.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll give ya one.” He tosses the beer at me, then reaches in his pocket for his pack of Marlboros, tossing me one of those next. Axel and his wife, Pamela, walk up to us. I kinda like her. She treats Axel a helluva lot better than Del’s aunt ever did. She keeps him pretty happy, and she loves to ride just as much, if not more, than he does. She looks good with her cherry red hair fallin’ out in waves where she pinned it up under her helmet, wearin’ jeans and Axel’s old leather jacket.

She’s always so perky. Makes me think of Peggy from Married With Children.

“Hey Brody!” she chirps after she hugs Del tight and pecks him on the cheek. She hugs me next, before we all kick back on the front steps of the trailer and fold out chairs, crowdin’ around Skip to pass the joint he rolled, and he immediately rolls a second, ‘cause it’ll take more than one for everybody to get high. I’ve never been a stoner, always preferred alcohol over weed, but I hit it once, and instantly my good mood spikes, and where I’ve already been smirkin’, I’m now grinnin’.

“Somebody’s in a good mood,” Skip comments. “’Bout fuckin’ time. You’ve been a real asshole for months now. Thought maybe we’d have to call the doctor and get you checked out.”

“Yeah we all thought you lost it,” Jesse adds.

I chuckle at that.

“Whatchya smilin’ about, honey?” Pam asks me, and I just shake my head. “What happened?”

“You don’t wanna know,” I say, shirking it off with a shrug.

But Del tells her anyway. “He went on a date last night,” he says, grinnin’ like the idiot he is, and I get flustered, because they all know it wasn’t with a woman. Brows raise at that. I brace myself for the snide remarks, because I know they’re comin’. But I won’t let it piss me off. Honestly I don’t think anything could piss me off today. I’m feelin’ too good to let anything get me down. Not even their backhanded comments about my sexuality, and that date I went on last night.

But I don’t hear any comments. Instead just a question. From Jesse.

“Is it serious?” he asks, then sips his beer. I chug half of mine.

“Don’t know yet,” I say. Then I light the cigarette I’ve been holdin’ onto.

“He ain’t one of them weird ones, is he? Ya know, like wears make-up or somethin’?”

Beside him Skip coughs up a storm. He just hit the joint in his hand and now he looks like he’s chokin’ on it, but he’s not. Weed doesn’t make him cough anymore. It was Jesse’s question.

“No. He don’t wear fuckin’ make-up,” I scoff, then guzzle down the rest of my beer, then crush the can in my hand. I toss it in the rusted burn barrel already full and overflowing of empty beer cans. “He ain’t like that, and even if he was, what’s it to you? Ain’t like you’re the one fuckin’ him, are you?” I puff on my cigarette some more. “Hell, maybe you should try it some time. Might even like it. Maybe that’s your problem right there. ‘Cause we all know ya can’t get a _woman_ ta fuck your ugly ass.”

All the while I’m sayin’ this I’ve got a smile on my face. Jesse knows I’m just fuckin’ with him, but his own face is redder than Pamela’s hair. Reactions are all varied. Skip just snorts a little and looks away. Del’s cracking up, wipin’ tears from his eyes. Pam’s got this shit eatin’ grin on her face, tryna hide it behind her beer can. Axel’s expression is blank, per usual, and he just quietly sips on his beer. “Lemme get another beer,” I say, reachin’ for one, but Jesse’s pissed at me.

“Almost don’t wanna give ya one, ya fuckin’ dickhead.”

“Oh you know I’m just fuckin’ with you. Gimme a beer goddamn it.”

He scowls at me, but he reaches in the cooler and tosses me another beer.

“Really though, what’s he like, honey?” Pam asks, curious.

“Honest answer?”

“Honest answer.”

“He’s great, Pam. Real great.”

“It’s that boy that came in Riders the other night,” Del adds. “Ya know that boy that was bein’ chased by them three whinin’ ass little punks that was gonna beat him up an’ shit? It’s him.”

Skip chuckles. “You mean the one you was playin’ pool with?” Del nods. Skip turns in his seat to face me. “I thought that boy was scared of you?”

“Evidently not,” I say, and crack my can of beer open. “He’s seen me at my worst and he still went out with me. Shit, maybe he’s just as screwed up as me.”

“Y’all belong together then,” Del says. “If he’s that fuckin’ crazy, he’s just your type. Hell, maybe he’d fit right in with all of us.”

Doubt it. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’d ever take him around my friends. The only reason I get away with some of the shit I say sometimes is because they all know just how fuckin’ nuts I am, and I back up my words. I didn’t survive ten years in prison because I couldn’t defend myself. But I just chuckle at Del’s comment, then shrug a little, sayin’, “Maybe.” Then I sit back a little, sip my beer, and listen to the others shoot the breeze, thinkin’ about things. Smile on my face still.

“Alright, ya gotta stop that shit,” Jesse tells me finally.

“What?” I laugh, confused.

“That. The creepy fuckin’ smile ya got your face. Ya gotta go back to bein’ miserable all the damned time, ‘cause that smile you got on makes you look like some kind of psyho clown killer or somethin’, like one of those wack-jobs you see on CNN that shot fifty people.”

“Yeah, it is kinda scary,” Del agrees. 

Skip chuckles. “Look like some kind of sociopath sittin’ over there.”

“Yeah kinda like a Ted Bundy or somebody,” Jesse adds.

“Oh will you two quit pickin’ on him?” Pam sighs. “Just shut the hell up an’ let the boy be happy goddamn it.”

Oh I am, and there’s nothin’ they could say or do to make me otherwise. But finally, after not sayin’ one goddamn word this whole time, Axel finally talks.

He holds up his beer, and says, “Finally found you a good one, huh?”

“Yes sir, I think I did.”

He nods a little. “Hold onto him then.” He tips back his can and drinks.

I rub my hands together a little. Yeah, I did. I got a good one, and I’m not lettin’ this one get away from me. When I get home later I pull out my phone, chuckling when I see that song is still pulled up on my playlist where I paused it, so I reconnect my phone to the speaker and start it over from the beginning. It’s called “Get To Me” by Train, and I don’t care if my neighbors hear that shit, I crank up the volume anyway. Yeah, all in all, I’d say life is pretty damn good right now.

I blast that song in my garage, bobbin’ my head along with the music as I start back to workin’ on the Shelby, still smilin’, and still feelin’ good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	13. Dysfunctional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m really not ready to metaphorically scrape myself off the floor and pretend I’m happy and functioning in front of mom and dad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I skipped a few 'episodes' last week. Got busy with Christmas shopping. To make up for it I'm posting two updates today, then regular posting schedule will resume.
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Unwell"–Matchbox Twenty](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=VTgMFcFIH9k&feature=share)

ASH-

Sunday evening sneaks up on me a little too quickly. I’m really not ready to metaphorically scrape myself off the floor and pretend I’m happy and functioning in front of mom and dad. I’d rather just stay in bed in my pajamas, clutching my pillow, bawling like a baby. I don’t want to leave my apartment. I’ve done nothing but turn Friday night over and over in my head and I’ve come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t go out with Brody again. I just can’t do that to myself, or to him.

If I were to continue seeing Brody it would just be torture, because he’s actually pretty great, and if I got attached, or if he did, and then things didn’t work out between us in the end, I would feel ten times worse than I do now. I would be heartbroken, and I’ve had enough bad break ups to last me a life time, thank you. Trey just straight up ghosting me like I don’t even exist was the worst one. That hurt more than any break up call. To just be ignored like that made me feel so insignificant.

So I haven’t called Brody, and other than working, I’ve done nothing but lock myself up in my apartment day in and day out, avoiding any and all people. I think I’ve eaten more junk food and takeout this weekend than I ever have in my entire life. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m a freak of nature, that no one is ever going to love, and I don’t see any point in even trying to do things like stay healthy and active. I’ll just gain fifty pounds and jerk off to porn the rest of my life.

So I’m wallowing in my misery when Stephanie calls me. “Hey, I’m on my way,” she tells me when I pick up the phone. I groan.

“I’m not going.”

“What?!” she shrieks, and faintly I hear what sounds like tires screeching like she just swerved to miss something, but at least I know she’s got the phone on speaker and driving hands-free. “No! No no no! You are _not_ missing dinner at mom and dad’s!” she tells me. “You know how badly they will freak out if you’re not there!”

I sigh a little. “I can’t Steph,” I whine. “I just…I can’t be around anyone right now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m a fucking mess, that’s what’s wrong!”

I hear Stephanie let out a frustrated growl, and I’m not sure if it was aimed at me, or traffic, but we’ll just go with me on this one. “Okay just stay there. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in like ten minutes. Don’t do anything drastic.”

We hang up and I flop back down on my bed. I’m not going to. It’s not even an option. The most drastic thing I might do is eat an entire carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream in one sitting, but it’s not like I’m suicidal or anything. Just lonely, depressed, and emotional. Maybe, possibly over-thinking things right now, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s Stephanie that’s freaking out and blowing this way out of proportion with her mom voice right now. I bury my face in my pillow.

Ten minutes later I hear her pounding on the door. I almost don’t want to answer because I know she’ll find some way to weasel me out of my pile of blankets and get me over to mom and dad’s, whether I want to go or not. I know she means well, that she’s just trying to keep me from going off the deep end here, but I’d rather just wallow. I don’t want anyone coming in and trying to fix me. I don’t want anyone trying to save me from myself. I just want to curl up and go to sleep.

But I get up and go to the door. I open it to see Steph standing there, in this little yellow sun dress that actually covers her boobs, but of course it’s still insanely short. She looks cute though. She makes the sympathetic mom face at me and coos, “Awe, babe, come here,” Pulling me into a hug when she sees just how awful I probably look. I’m just in my plaid striped boxers and a t-shirt, with bedhead and what has to be the ugliest post-crying, still-half-asleep face ever to exist.

But another human being is comforting me, and I guess I kind of needed it because I don’t even fight it or anything and just let her squeeze me tightly, laying my head on the side of hers. “What’s wrong, Baby Bear?” she asks me, and I pout a little, slumping my shoulders. I both love and hate that nickname. She used to call me that all the time when we were younger, and sometimes she still calls me that when one of us is particularly upset and in obvious need of comfort. I sigh a little.

“Just everything,” I say.

“Awe, I’m so sorry, babe,” she says and pats me on the back. “Let’s go sit down.” She comes completely inside my apartment and sits me down on the couch. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I flop back in my seat. “It’s just…I’m just so sick and tired of being miserable all the time! Every guy I go out with just turns out to be a total flop and I don’t know if I can keep pretending I’m okay with being single, just to get mom and dad off my back, when I’m not! I don’t _want_ to be single! I don’t want to be alone, and if I have to drag myself over to their house one more fucking time and put up with all their questions and comments about my life I’m going to crack!”

“Babe, you know it’s just because they love you, and you know they do the same thing to me. We’ll weather it together, okay? I won’t let you face it alone.”

“That’s the thing, Steph, I don’t want to face it at all. I’m just so sick of things never working out for me, and having them shove it my face makes me feel worse!”

“Well, what about just lying to them and telling them you’re with someone?”

“And just what am I supposed to do if they want to meet him?”

“Tell them it’s a long distance relationship. You know, like, you met him online.”

“Then they’ll just _know_ I’m lying, because I would never date a guy I met online.”

“Tell them you’re taking things slowly, and don’t feel comfortable introducing him just yet, then in a few weeks just pretend you dumped him. Maybe by then you’ll have an actual boyfriend to introduce them to.” She shrugs a little. “Or just tell them the truth.”

“Oh yes, that’s a bright idea, tell mom I’m miserable so she’ll keep trying to set me up with all her coworkers’ gay sons or nephews or some friend-of-a-friend who knows someone who’s related to someone who maybe might be gay.”

Stephanie sighs. She, more than anyone, can understand the pain of having parents like ours. Because they’re overachievers in the happiness department. They try so hard to be good parents, to be loving and accepting and helpful to us both, that they just end up driving us both crazy. Dad is always calling and checking in on us to make sure we have groceries, is always offering to help Steph pay to get her car fixed, and always asking me if I need money. It’s great that they care, but also exhausting.

Mom totally smothers me to the point I almost feel like I’m actually suffocating with her involvement in my love life. But then out of nowhere, as I’m sitting on the couch with Steph, trying to think of a way to get out of visiting my parents, suddenly it hits me. I went out with someone Friday night who doesn’t even _have_ parents. Who would probably love to have such a kind, caring, and affectionate family like mine. Who probably wouldn’t complain about having to go to dinner with them either.

Thinking about Brody sparks something in me, and I sit up abruptly, then I scrub my face with my hands. “I’ll go.” Steph lifts a curious brow at me. “You’re right, I should go. They’re my parents and they love me, and I shouldn’t be such a jerk just because I’m not happy right now.” Taking a deep breath, I peel myself off the couch and stand up. “Just give me a few to get dressed, okay?” She nods at me, then stares at my back as I shuffle to my bedroom to sift through my closet.

*

Dinner just came out of the oven and mom’s setting it on the table when Steph and I arrive. She made this really awesome baked chicken recipe she got from a friend at work, and while it smells great, I’m still feeling kind of anxious, so I don’t have much of an appetite. Dad is in his chair in the living room, sipping a beer and watching hockey, but he sits up and smiles when he sees us walk in. Then it’s time for suffocating hugs from both mom and dad before we sit down to eat.

Things start out great of course, just talking about work mostly. Food is great, and conversation is going smoothly, until finally mom asks me, “So, honey, how was your weekend? Did you do anything exciting?”

“Oh, uh, Steph and I went dancing on Friday night.”

“The club was packed,” she adds. “It was _so_ crazy.”

“Sounds fun,” Mom chirps. “Oh I still remember when your dad and I would go out every Saturday night and go dancing. We used to have so much fun together.” She smiles fondly. But then dad burps a little, making her roll her eyes and chuckle. “Way to be romantic, honey,” she quips, side-eyeing him, and he makes an apologetic face. She just shakes her head at him. Then here comes the question of the hour. “So did you meet any cute guys?” she asks us both, and Steph snorts.

“Show me a cute guy in Vice that’s interested,” she remarks with a chuckle. Mom lifts a brow. “Most of the guys that go to Vice are gay, mom,” she explains.

“Oh. Well, Ash, honey, did you happen to meet someone?”

I blow out a gust of air, ruffling my hair a little. I think about just doing what Steph suggested and lie right through my teeth. But it’s not a total lie though. Because I did meet someone at Vice. It wasn’t who I expected it to be, and it was just this sort of accidental slam dunk by fate, throwing Brody in my path, but I had a really great time with him. So no, it wouldn’t be a lie if I said yes. “I did bump into someone,” I say with a nod. “We left and grabbed something to eat. Hung out and talked.”

“Oh?” Mom’s eyes light up. So do dad’s, because he’s evidently quite curious too, though he’s not as adamant about being involved in my romantic affairs as mom is. Steph’s only half interested because I already told her nothing happened between us. I didn’t tell her who it was though. I just made it sound more like it was just some acquaintance of mine, so she wouldn’t ask a million questions. “So tell us about him,” Mom smiles, setting down her fork. I scratch my head a little.

“He’s great,” I say. “Really great actually. He’s very handsome. Very sweet, kind of shy, and…I think he’s a bit of a romantic.” I don’t realize at first that my tone has adopted a bit of a wistfulness as I speak, nor do I realize I’m absently fondling my water glass affectionately as I stare into it. “But at the same time he’s also really intense?” I chuckle. “Totally unpredictable too, I mean, I never know what he’s going to say or do next and he always keeps me guessing. But he’s very passionate.”

“Awe, he sounds very nice,” Mom comments. “So how did you two first meet?”

I gulp a little. “Uhm…we met at a…at a bar?”

Mom tosses up her napkin, and there goes the feel good moment. “A bar, honey?! Really?!” She frowns at me. “You met this guy at a bar? Sweetie how many times do I have to tell you, you can’t expect to find a meaningful relationship in a bar! This guy was probably just being so sweet and charming just to get in your pants and now that he has what he wanted, he’s never going to see you again. He’s just going to throw you back afterwards and move on to someone else!”

“Oh my god, mom,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “Like, it’s not even like that! We didn’t even sleep together! All we did was go to dinner!”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t only want one thing, honey.”

I sigh in exasperation. “The fact that I met him in a bar is just extenuating circumstances! It just so happened to be a drinking establishment, that’s all. It’s just a coincidence! People go to bars, mom, all different kinds of people, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Alright fine, _why_ did you meet him in a bar, and not somewhere else, if it’s just a coincidence?”

“It’s just where I happened to be at the time,” I shrug.

“Well, then if you’re so convinced he doesn’t just want to sleep with you, what does he do for a living? Hmm? Does he have any family? Any siblings? Any hobbies? Did he even tell you _anything_ about his life? Or just flirt with you the whole night?”

I scowl at her. My eyes dart to Stephanie who’s got her nose buried in her phone. She’s going to flip when she hears this. “Oh I know plenty.” I prop my elbow on the table then start counting everything off as I list it on my fingers. “His name is Brody Eckhart, he’s thirty-four, he’s a certified mechanic, he works at Jefferson Auto, he lives on Route 19, he was a foster child with an adoptive mother, he likes restoring classic cars, he’s obsessed with Mikky Ekko, and he even gave me his phone number.” 

I fold my arms over the table. Dad furrows his brow.

“Who’s Mikky Ekko?” he asks me. I glance at Stephanie to see her face scrunched up in thought, like she’s slowly putting two and two together. Mom leans her head.

“Are you sure he’s gay?” she asks, and I roll my eyes, chuckling a little.

“Straight guys don’t give you goodnight kisses, mom.”

“Alright, then again I’ll ask, why did you meet him in a bar?” Mom asks me, and I groan.

“You remember the guy I was telling you about? The one that chased off those creeps that followed me out of Vice? It’s him. What happened was when I ran from them I ducked into a bar to hide, one where he just so happened to be, because it was the only place that was open, thus the coincidence that I met him in a bar.”

“Oh…Oh! Oh, okay, that makes sense then.”

Stephanie’s eyes widen and she nearly chokes on her drink. Then she gapes at me in shock. “Brody is who you went out with on Friday?” she asks me, and I nod. “OH MY GOD!”

“What, why oh my god, why is she saying oh my god?” Dad asks, glancing back and forth between us.

“Nothing!” she squeaks. “He’s…he’s just really hot,” she fumbles to say, covering her mouth, then turns her saucer eyes to me, making a face like she’s still saying oh my god behind her hand.

I just let out a sigh and finish my meal, then it’s my turn to say oh my god.

“Oh my god, mom, this chicken is delicious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	14. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I feel like I’m holdin’ my breath. Just one week long inhale ‘til Friday night at six when I can finally let it out and just breathe again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["Right Now"–Nick Jonas](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=0Kr5CufKTj4&feature=share)

BRODY-

It’s Monday and he still hasn’t called me yet. I know it’s only been like two days, and I probably shouldn’t be so worried but…was I wrong? Does he not feel the same about me? Or am I just bein’ dumb, and over-thinkin’ this shit right now? Does he ever want to see me again? Or did he just finally come to his senses and realize how wrong I am for him? I don’t know, but when I go to work I’m kind of anxious and it’s stressin’ me out, which causes me to constantly fuck shit up.

I called the part store to put in an order for a Cavalier and accidentally ordered the wrong shit. Yeah, I’m not havin’ a good day. But I just can’t stop thinkin’ about Ashton, wonderin’ if maybe I should just be the one to make the next move. Maybe talkin’ about my previous inability to make a relationship work long-term might really have been a concern for him. Maybe he’s hesitant because he’s still scared, because he’s been hurt in the past, and I just need to show him that I’m serious about him. 

So during my lunch hour I sit alone in the break room starin’ at his number on my phone.

I take a deep breath.

Then I make the call.

I hold that breath the whole three long rings it takes for him to answer. But he finally picks up and I exhale. “Hey,” he says, distractedly, almost like he wasn’t expecting me to call or he’s in the middle of somethin’. Or maybe because he’s nervous. I won’t lie, I’m nervous too.

“Hey. I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”

“Oh, no. Now is perfect, actually. I’m on my lunch break right now.”

“So am I.”

“I was going to call you,” he rushes to say next. “I just–I was a little busy with–with some things and I’m sorry about that. How have you been?”

“I’ve been good.” Lie. I’ve been missin’ him like crazy, goin’ out of my mind, wonderin’ if I’d ever see him again. “Listen, I was wondering if–if you would maybe wanna go out somewhere this Friday?”

“Friday? Uh…yeah, yeah I would love to. What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinkin’ I could take you to dinner. There’s this place downtown that just opened up.”

“Oh you mean CJ’s?” I mumble a ‘yeah’. “I haven’t been there yet but I heard it’s supposed to be really nice.”

“Yeah I thought maybe we might check it out.”

“That…that sounds great,” he tells me and I smile. “What time?”

“Is six o’clock okay?”

“Yeah that’s perfect.”

My smile widens. “Okay I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up the call, but I tap my phone against my leg a few times in angst before I decide to call him up again. 

“Hey. Everything okay?” he asks me when he picks up the phone.

“Yeah, I just…” I chew on my lip for a second. “I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

He chuckles a little into the speaker. Just this breathy little sound on the other end, almost like he’s gasping for air and my heart speeds up. 

I can hear his smile when he says, “Goodbye, Brody.”

“Bye,” I say before I hang up, grinnin’ from ear to ear.

*

We talk every day before Friday. Every chance we get, we call each other up just to chat, to talk about our day and stuff like that. I love just talkin’ to him. Just about anything. I don’t feel self conscious about myself when I talk to him. I feel like I can be myself. We talk about anything and everything Ashton feels like talkin’ about. It’s not even flirting, but we do that a little too, slip in comments here and there. I can’t help it really. It’s surprisingly easy to flirt with him, which is crazy too.

It just feels natural, like we’ve been together for years. But I try not to make our conversations just about sex, because I don’t want him to think that’s all I care about. Getting to that part is just a bonus really. Not that I don’t think about sex, when I think about that all the time too, and sometimes it drives me crazy when I’m layin’ in bed at night, picturing when he was right there, in my bed, underneath me. Fuck, he felt so good, and he makes me so hard, wantin’ another taste, but…

At the same time, I just wanna be _me_ with him, you know? Just anyway I can be, and I love that I can have that with him. That it’s not just about sex, and I can just relax. Be the real me, the person I keep locked away from people, and I feel like I can do that with Ashton. I don’t have to hide any part of who I am. But he never asks me about my criminal past, doesn’t make me talk about prison or anything if I don’t want to, like it’s not an issue, like he doesn’t need to know the details.

He just asks me about my childhood and things like that. We laugh so much together too. He’s kinda quirky, and always so sarcastic. I love his sense of humor. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed, or smiled, this much in my whole life. It’s great, and each day I’m more and more impatient for Friday night to get here already. Because I wanna see him, pull him into my arms, hold him, kiss him, touch him, and just be with him, all the time. I want that all day, every day, if I can have it. I guess I’ll find out.

I’ve been drivin’ Del absolutely crazy ‘cause I’m so hyped. Yeah, I’m the obnoxious one for a change. I think he might be kinda jealous though, because he ain’t been havin’ the best of luck with women lately, so I make him go out with me on Thursday and I’m his wing man that night. He ends up goin’ home with this pretty little thing named Addie. I don’t see it workin’ out for long, ‘cause she really ain’t the kind of girl that’s right for somethin’ steady, but she’s down to fuck at least.

I feel like I’m holdin’ my breath. Just one week long inhale ‘til Friday night at six when I can finally let it out and just breathe again. 

*

CJ’s is the type of place you get kinda dressed up to go to, so I break out my black three piece and shine up my dress shoes. Yeah, I own a suit. Keep it in my closet for the same two reasons any guy would. Weddings and funerals, though most men will tell you it’s kinda the same thing really. But I dropped it off at the dry cleaners this mornin’, so after I clock out I swing by to pick it up, then go home and shower, spruce myself up a little before I head over to Ashton’s apartment.

I text him to let him know I’m outside. I would just go up and knock on the door, you know, be old fashioned about it, but I don’t know which apartment he’s in. So I lean against the front fender of my car and wait for him to come down. When he opens the door and sees me standin’ there, he smiles at me. He looks fuckin’ adorable. He’s got on slate gray slacks with a matchin’ vest, over a white button up, slingin’ his jacket over his shoulder, but what’s killin’ me the most is the little red bow tie.

My inner freak is wantin’ to groan out loud, “Oh baby, come to Daddy.” But I keep my mouth shut, ‘cause I have yet to mention any of those kinds of things I’m into. If he doesn’t like that kind of thing, it’s not like it’s a deal breaker. I’m already in too deep anyway and there is nothin’ that could cause me to back off. Ashton is the one I want. My mouth does curve upward in a smile when I see him, and he skips down the steps to the curb. I stand up, I reach for his hand, and I pull him in for a kiss. 

“Hey,” he chuckles at me when we break apart. “You look great.”

“Me? Nah. You on the other hand? You look good, baby, real good.”

He blushes a little. I open the passenger door for him, he climbs inside, and we hit the road, headed to CJ’s. We talk a little in the car on the way over. I ask him how his day was, and he tells me about some problems he ran into at work, then he asks about mine. I whine about bitchy customers complainin’ about how slow it’s takin’ for their car to get fixed. The usual shit really. When we get to CJ’s there’s a twenty minute waiting list to get a table, but it just gives us more time to talk.

I keep my arms around him. I just can’t stop touchin’ him. Not in any way that’s inappropriate though, because we’re in public. The restaurant is nice. It’s kinda like a steakhouse, or a bar and grill type place, with a bar and everything, but the dining hall is more like a five star restaurant, or what I assume a five star might look like, because I’ve never been in one. But the hostess and the staff are all friendly, and when we finally get to our table our waiter is real nice too. I like this place.

What I don’t end up likin’ about it are the couple we’re seated across from though. After the server leaves to get our drinks and I reach my hands across the table to hold Ashton’s as we talk, I hear the most obnoxious sound of disgust comin’ from the guy when he sees it. But the woman, who looks to be his wife, shushes him. “Barry, stop,” she hisses. Ashton brushes his hair from his eyes and chews nervously on his bottom lip. Fuckin’ homophobes, man. Gotta ruin everything, don’t they?

“Excuse me,” the guy says to both of us, “_Excuse me,_ but do you _mind_?”

Do I mind?!

I turn a little in my seat to glare at him, darin’ him with my eyes to say one more fuckin’ word I don’t like. He’s starin’ right back at us, curlin’ his lip in disgust like we’re ate up by some flesh eating disease and he don’t wanna get infected. I squeeze Ashton’s hand a little tighter, but with my other I’m slowly reaching down in my right pants pocket to grip the handle of my knife. “Brody, honey, just breathe,” Ashton says quietly between his teeth, because he knows what I’m tempted to do.

I do as he says, I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale out my mouth to keep from stabbin’ this piece of shit. But then our server comes back to our table with our drinks. I let go of the knife and prop my elbows on the table. The waiter smiles at us as he sets down our drinks, then says, “They’re you are. Coca-cola, and iced tea.” He pulls his note pad from his apron. “You guys ready to order?” He clicks his pen. But the guy at the table next to ours snaps his fingers repeatedly.

“Excuse me, excuse me, _sir_?”

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” says Brad, our server. He turns back to us. “So what can I getchya guys?”

Ashton looks at his menu, but once more we’re interrupted by the asshole next to us.

“Sir, can you _please_ move us to another table?”

“Barry!” his wife hisses, lookin’ pretty embarrassed by her husband’s behavior.

“No, I want another table,” he growls, then looks at our waiter expectantly, who cocks his head in confusion for a second.

“I’m sorry but there are no other tables available at the moment.” He looks around. “We’re kind of busy at this time of night, so if you’d like to be moved you’ll have to wait about an hour for another one to open. Sorry about that.” He pauses, just to see if this guy’s gonna argue, before he turns back to us with a smile and takes our order. The guy is pissed, face is turnin’ red, but I do my best to ignore him and tell Ashton to order whatever he wants. “Oh, spoiled are we?” the server chuckles.

Ashton laughs. “Yeah apparently.” I smirk a little. We finish givin’ our order and he walks away. Then it’s just the two of us, and I’m back to gazin’ into Ashton’s beautiful eyes. Like for real, they’re fuckin’ incredible. I’ve never in my life seen such a vivid blue. I lean forward in my seat once more lace my fingers in his, brushin’ his knuckles with my thumb. He’s smiling and blushing still and I’m just about to open my mouth to speak when there’s another scoff from the asshole next to us.

“Just ignore him,” Ashton suggests, still smilin’ like nothin’ is wrong.

I’m smilin’ too but I say between my teeth, “Really kinda hard to do that right now.”

“I know.”

“I _really_ wanna put this guy through a wall, baby.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, patting my hand. “And as much as I would love to see you do that because it sounds like it would be fucking hot as hell, I really don’t want you to get into trouble.” He laughs a little. “Kinda not really into relationships over collect phone calls.”

I sigh and bite my lip. “It almost sounds like you like me just a little.”

He chuckles. “I like you a _lot_, actually,” he tells me. 

“Well good ‘cause I like you too.”

He leans in and kisses me. His lips are so soft, but I only get a moment to enjoy it before my blood is boilin’ again, when the guy next to us throws up his hands. “Oh great, now I have to sit and watch them make out!” he scoffs angrily and his wife sighs dejectedly.

“You ain’t gotta watch shit,” I sneer at him. “Won’t you keep your eyes on your date, before I put my hands around your throat, and make her watch you slowly choke to death.”

He glares at me, like he thinks I won’t really do it. I flex my jaw. “Breathe, honey, just breathe,” Ashton tells me. But it’s gettin’ kinda hard to do that right now. Ashton gets frustrated. “Like seriously, do you _want_ my boyfriend to stab you?” he asks the guy. I blink a few times.

I turn my eyes back to Ashton in front of me, and suddenly I don’t feel like hurtin’ anyone right now.

He called me his boyfriend. I like the sound of that. 

“Honey, let’s just go,” his wife suggests, which only makes it worse. He huffs.

“No! No, I will _not_ leave. I shouldn’t _have_ to leave. I should be able to have a nice dinner with my fiancé without having to see people like them all over each other in public like this!”

I scoot my chair back a little and move to get up but Ashton holds me down, hands gripping mine tightly. He turns and smiles at the asshole next to us and asks, “Let me ask, just how small _is_ your dick, exactly?” He glances at his fiancé, who’s brows went up. “I mean is it just kind of on the short side, or is it a micro penis? It’s a micro penis, right?” he asks her. “Because I just really can’t see any other reason why a guy like him would behave so abrasively in public and embarrass you like this.”

“Are you _sure_ you want to marry a guy like him?” he continues. “Have kids with him? Because I mean, he’s rude, he’s obnoxious,” he counts off the issues with his fingers, “And he obviously has no consideration for _your_ feelings whatsoever. He’s prejudiced, which you know that means he’s probably suffering from all of the mental issues typically associated with that kind of toxic behavior, and if you marry this guy you’ll forever be trapped in a loveless marriage with a misogynistic pig.”

He eyes her sympathetically. “You _really_ want that for yourself?” he asks.

The guy’s jaw drops, like how dare Ashton say all this shit to his fiancé, but her on the other hand? She’s glancin’ back and forth between the both of us and him like she’s seriously reconsidering her life choices right now. Finally she throws down her napkin and says, starting to tear up, “You know what, I don’t think I do.” She storms off. The guy flips out shouting, “Tina! Tina wait!” He fights for a second over whether to go off on Ashton or chase her down before he finally gets up to run after her.

I gape in shock. “Well _damn_, baby,” I chuckle. “I think you just broke off their engagement.”

He shrugs, playin’ with his hair a little, smiling innocently. “I do like fixing people, and those two obviously have some serious issues to work through.”

“No doubt,” I laugh. So does he. I take his hand in mine, studyin’ his features for a moment. “So…I’m your boyfriend, huh?” I smile and he gets bashful.

“If you want to be.”

“Oh I do, but are you sure you wanna go steady with a guy like me? I mean I _did_ almost just stab him.”

He just smiles. “I know,” he sighs wistfully, like he thinks my crazy is so sexy. 

But you know what? I think he’s kinda crazy too? The _good_ kind of crazy though. The kind of crazy I need in my life.

Maybe we really are right for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	15. Dive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Maybe Stephanie is right, maybe I really have gone crazy, but it’s the right kind of crazy, I think. The kind of crazy that makes me want to take chances._
> 
> _To take a leap of faith, and to dive into something that just might be incredibly fulfilling._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to finally _earn_ the E rating ;)
> 
> Chapter Song: ["All In"–Lifehouse](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=6PVIupFaHK4&feature=share)

ASH-

I can still hardly believe I’m here, sitting across from Brody at this really great restaurant, having the best night of my life. We’re still talking, laughing, when the waiter arrives with our food, which is fucking fantastic by the way, and the whole night just feels incredible. I’m glad I said yes when he asked me out. I almost didn’t even answer the phone, but I thought about how Trey made me feel so awful when he didn’t return my calls, and I knew I could never do something like that to Brody.

So I answered the phone after nearly dropping my salad fork when I saw it was him calling me during my lunch break. God, I was so nervous! But when I heard how shy and nervous Brody also sounded on the phone when he asked me to dinner, some part of me relaxed, and it made me a bit braver than I initially would have been. There’s just something about him that manages to tear down all my defenses and completely disarm me like that. I don’t know what it is, but he just does.

Stephanie thinks I’m absolutely out of my mind for going out with him, but mostly because she knows just what kind of people he hangs around and the severity of his violence towards the men that attacked me the night we met. But what she doesn’t see, and what I’ve been trying to make her understand, is the soft, sweet, sensitive guy that’s underneath all that, who’s so noble at heart. The guy that I can be myself around. The guy that I can stay up late for hours talking to.

Every time I hear his voice suddenly I don’t feel afraid anymore, and each time we’ve talked on the phone it’s like he’s slowly but surely wiping away each of my fears, my doubts, and even all my insecurities. Each time he speaks I find something new to like about him, and just the way he gazes at me from across the table like I’m the only person in the world. The only thing that matters. Hell could open beneath our feet, and it wouldn’t tear Brody’s eyes from mine. I feel exactly the same.

I’ve never felt like this before with anyone I’ve dated. He’s just so genuine, all the time, no matter where he is or who he’s around, and whatever he feels, it’s intense. If he’s angry, he’s ready to kill, if he’s happy, he’s insanely so, and when he’s sad he feels that very deeply too. Everything he says he means wholeheartedly, and he doesn’t twist his words just to try to be clever. He’s honest to a fault. I feel like I know where I stand with a guy like Brody, like I know what I’m capable of handling.

I can speak my mind too, and he never makes me feel like he’s judging me. Most of the time he agrees with me, and even if he doesn’t, he understands the reasons behind my feelings on a subject. Oh and don’t even get me started on how insanely hot he looks tonight! I could write an entire novel just on the topic of his sex appeal right now. I don’t think I could ever manage to look as good as he does, but the way he’s looking at me with that gleam in his hazel eyes, I feel no less attractive.

I think the night is going great, and I also think maybe tonight is the night we finish what we started last time around. We’ll take things slowly. If it starts looking like we’re headed toward sex, I’ll just stop and pull back, tell him I’m not ready for that. At no point has Brody pressured me insofar, so I don’t think he would mind. I think he would understand. He said he didn’t want to rush this either. All of his previous relationships were just about sex. He doesn’t want this to end up the same.

Neither do I, but I don’t want to push him _completely_ away and keep him at arm’s length just because I have my hang ups. I’m not about to let things go the way they went last time. Not when I see sitting across from me such a kind, though perhaps overly chivalrous, but very passionate man, that I could maybe see myself falling deeply in love with. Maybe Stephanie is right, maybe I really have gone crazy, but it’s the right kind of crazy, I think. The kind of crazy that makes me want to take chances.

To take a leap of faith, and to dive into something that just might be incredibly fulfilling.

So when the waiter disappears to total up our order and bring us the check, I reach across the table to lace my fingers with Brody’s and ask, “Would you maybe want to…to come back to my place with me?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finder, then he shrugs a little. “We don’t have to.”

Yeah but how many more times is he going to say that before he stops meaning it?

It’s been a week and we still haven’t so much as managed to get our pants off.

How slow is _too_ slow?

I get a little anxious for a moment, debating on whether or not to just withdraw my offer because I’m nervous. I start fiddling with the napkin folded on the table. “I mean we could just, you know, hang out and talk or…like, watch a movie, or we could,” Wow my heart is really racing! “We could just do whatever you want, I mean…” Brody studies me for a moment. Then Brad, our server, comes by our table with the check so Brody slips his debit card into the bill fold and hands it to him with a smile.

When he’s gone, he turns back to me and sighs. He knows me inviting him back to my place may not just be about watching a movie together or something. It could turn into more than that. “Look, Ashton, there’s somethin’ you gotta understand about me,” he says. “I know I’ve had my one night stands and all that, but I’m not the kinda guy that flips back and forth and shit like that. Look, if I’m with you? Then I’m _with_ you, understand me? Whether I sleep with you or not.”

He leans in closer and says, “I’m not gonna go screwin’ around with other guys. If we’re together, then we’re together, and it’s just you, baby. Nobody else. I’m not gonna try to control you or stop you from doin’ whatever the hell you want to, but on my end, like, this is it for me. There’s no one else for me. _No one._ I have what I want right here. Whether or not we end up in bed together is not gonna change my mind. The only unpredictable factor in all this is you, and what it is you want. Us sleepin’ together, it ain’t a deal breaker, alright?”

I proverbially swallow his words, and let out the breath I’ve been holding with, “Oh thank god.”

He chuckles a little. “I take it we’re on the same page then?”

“Yes,” I nod. “Yes, definitely.”

“So whatchya wanna do tonight?”

I think about it, then I shrug a little. “Well, the offer still stands,” I say. 

“You work tomorrow?” he asks me, reminding me of what happened last time and I adamantly shake my head, mouthing a ‘no’. He smirks.

“Alright then, if that’s what you want,” he tells me. “We do this however you want, and whatever way we go about it, that’s all up to you.”

“Okay.”

*

We’re already making out by the time we get up to my apartment door. I kind of attacked him in the stairwell. I mean, there he was beside me, on the step just below me as we’re going up, and he was at the perfect height for me to just lean in an quickly peck his mouth. That kiss turned into another, and then another, until finally I just pulled him to me and we ended up against the wall with his tongue down my throat. His hands cradling my face as we made out for a few minutes.

But now we’re completely inside my apartment, I shut and lock the door, then attack him again. I end up pushing him back against the wall and he hits it with a soft thud and a moan in my mouth. My hands are all over him, his are all over me, then he slides them down to squeeze my ass, inadvertently grinding me up against his groin, and he’s hard as fucking rock. I start unbuttoning his vest, splaying it open before I move on to his shirt, wrenching it upward, then unbuttoning that too.

He’s not wearing an undershirt, so I’m immediately met with that sculpted upper body covered in ink. My hands start at his abs and slowly slide upward. He’s breathing heavily, and beneath my palm I feel his heart pounding. He breaks the kiss for a moment to wrestle himself out of the top half of clothing until it’s all bared before me and I can touch everything. Trace the lines and shapes of the images. His hair, which had been previously combed neatly away from his face, is now falling in it.

I’m hot all over and starting to break out in a sweat just _looking_ at him. I can’t believe this is mine. How in God’s name did I get so lucky? My thumb finds the piercing in his left nipple and brushes over it, teasing it a little, and he lets out a hiss, then a moan in response. I need him on my couch, like right now, so I reach down, take him by the belt loops of his pants and pull him off the wall, walking backwards into the living space, leading him to it. Then I push him down and climb in his lap.

He looks around for a second like he just now noticed where he is. “Your place is kinda nice,” he comments and I chuckle, glancing around at my living room. Nice, he says. I mean yeah, I keep it clean and I don’t tear it up because I really want my security deposit back when I move out, but I can’t have pets, and I can’t hang anything on the walls. I did my best to make it livable, tacked up nice curtains and I have some potted plants under the window that by a miracle haven’t died on me yet.

A few throw pillows and blankets on the couch, a Turkish rug under the coffee table, stuff like that, but no matter what I do it just doesn’t feel like a home should feel. Like it has a soul. 

“I hate it,” I tell Brody, who cocks his head in confusion.

“Why?”

“Just doesn’t feel like home,” I answer, then I kiss him again. It slowly grows more adamant and Brody starts working me out of my shirt and vest but it gets stuck on my bow tie. He pulls back a little to look at it.

“Ah shit that’s real, ain’t it, not a clip-on?”

“Uh-huh.”

He opens and closes his mouth, worrying his lip with his teeth like he’s debating on something, but then finally asks, “Could I leave it on?”

“You like it, huh?” I smirk, and he nods.

“Yeah, I think it looks cute,” he tells me. 

“You can leave it on,” I chuckle at him and he grins, then works my collar free from it and peels my shirt off, bow tie still intact. Then he just stares up at me for a moment, eyes filled with lust, like I’m a gift wrapped just for him, complete with a little red bow. I almost blurt out, “Unwrap me, Daddy,” But I manage to hold it in and instead sigh a little, then moan when he’s kissing me again, all along my jaw, then my neck, his teeth briefly tugging at the cloth encircling it. He pulls my hair and I gasp.

Instantly he lets go and mumbles, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I like it,” I sigh, smiling, and he bites his lip. Then he does it again. Just gently squeezing, slowly pulling my head back while he attacks me with these little kisses and bites. “Oh fuck,” I moan when he starts sucking, and I can’t help but grind against him.

His lips make a little popping sound against my skin when he pulls off. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs. What do I want? I want to _fuck_ right now, that’s what I want. It’s too soon for that though. I’m really not ready for the mood killer of a conversation we’ll have to have in regards to that subject. But I really want to get off, and I want to get him off. I just…I just really want to be touched right now, however I can be. So I lean back to stare down at him, thinking it over.

“Will you maybe…jerk me off?” I ask him, and I he hums a little ‘m’hmm’ as he nods.

He pulls me back to him, and now we’re making out again as he unbuckles my belt, then slides it off, tossing it aside. Then he unbuttons my pants, zips open my fly. “Here, stand up,” he says, so I do, kicking my shoes off and letting him get my pants down to my ankles and I step out of them. Now it’s just me, my Calvin Klein underwear, and my black and gray argyle socks. He runs his hands up my thighs, teasing me with his hot breath, mouth hovering over my groin, like he might blow me instead.

But then he slowly curls his fingers in the waistband and pulls my underwear down, then pulls me back down to his lap. I’m already completely hard because this man has already driven me absolutely crazy all evening with just how impossibly sexy he is, and just how magnificent he feels, that I don’t think it will take very long to get off. He bites and sucks on my lip while his hands continue to roam over my thighs, then he murmurs, “You want lube?” My response is an ‘uh-uh’.

“I don’t need it,” I say and he wraps his hand around my dick. No, I just need the feel of that warm calloused hand around me and I moan when he starts jerking my dick, slowly at first, while he’s kissing me. I don’t really like lotion or lubricant of any kind really, unless it’s for sex. I don’t know why, but I just never cared for it. I can’t help but rock my hips into his hand, and as I do he squeezes my ass and pulls me into it. His hands, his mouth, his skin against mine, it feels incredible.

Pretty soon I’m moaning and whimpering in his mouth, and he swallows each sound like a man dying of thirst and my pleasure is the water that will quench him. His hips raise and he grinds me against his hard, throbbing erection, which brings me even closer. In fact, I’m so close I’m starting to shake uncontrollably from my head to my toes. But the one thing that brings me so close to the edge I think I’ll fall off of it any second now is when he reaches up and touches his middle finger to my tongue.

I latch onto it, sucking his finger, probing it with my tongue until its soaking wet, then groan when he pulls away and rubs that slick wet finger right over my hole as he pleasures me. He doesn’t even need to press it in and already my heart is pounding rapidly in my chest because I’m so close. It’s building. Any second now. His hand speeds up just a little, finding the perfect rhythm, and then he presses his finger in. Doesn’t even need to get it all the way in, just through that tight, clenching ring of muscle.

My fist squeezes tightly in his hair as I come all over his chest. He moans, and his hand slows to a gentler rhythm. He breaks the kiss to look down and watch my cum spurting, and god he looks good with my cum painting his chest and abdomen white, standing out in such stark contrast to the faded black and gray of ink darkening his skin. I slump boneless against him, taking a minute to catch my breath because I mean holy shit! I don’t think I’ve ever had so intense of an orgasm from a handjob before.

But as much as I would like to just flop down on the couch and pass out right now, I think it’s time I return the favor. I smirk a little, then slide off his lap, down to the floor, on my knees. I unbuckle his belt and get his pants undone, then tug them off. He raises his hips so I can pull them down to his ankles and I skim my hands over his thighs, all the way up to his groin, feasting my eyes on the sheer size and girth of his erection, licking my lips. Then my eyes meet his, playful smile on my face.

“My turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I actually know a guy that's weird about lube unless it's for penetration purposes. He doesn't know why. It's just the way he is.
> 
> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	16. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He’s fuckin’ beautiful, on his knees for me like this, closely resembling countless fantasies I’ve had of him just like he is right now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone. Sorry this was a day late.
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Sex On Fire"–Kings Of Leon](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=QkNfAnYRP6o&feature=share)

BRODY-

He slides down off my lap to the floor, on his knees in front of me, and starts to unbuckle my belt. He gets my fly open and tugs both my pants and my boxer briefs down, and I lift up to assist, so he can get ‘em all the way down to my ankles. Then he licks and bites his lips, swollen from my kissin’ ‘em and trembling still from makin’ him come, like he’s starvin’ as he feasts his hungry eyes on my dick. He runs those soft hands of his up my thighs and his eyes flick to mine as he grins from ear to ear.

He’s fuckin’ beautiful, on his knees for me like this, closely resembling countless fantasies I’ve had of him just like he is right now. So fuckin’ sexy in nothin’ but his black socks, still got on that little red bow tie that’s been drivin’ me crazy, just slightly lopsided, grinnin’ up at me like this. “My turn,” he purrs sweetly. His lashes flutter, and if he just slightly altered that statement, added the word Daddy to it? Fuck, I might think I really am just dreamin’, because he’s just too fuckin’ perfect right now.

His head dips and he gently, almost playfully, licks the underside of my sac, then starts suckin’ on one of my nuts and I’m in fuckin’ heaven right now. I’m torn between just lettin’ my head fall back against the couch and wantin’ to keep my eyes on him. I shift closer, spreadin’ legs just a little further apart to give him more room to do whatever the fuck he wants to me. My hand finds his hair as he teases me with that tongue, when I remember to ask, “You want me to wear a condom, baby?”

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs. “I can just pull off.”

I sigh a little when he starts licking the base of my dick then, fingers brushin’ through his hair. I think the only thing that could make this better is if I could come in that pretty little mouth of his. Just the sight of him, those long lashes fluttering against freckled cheeks, still red from the exertion of fuckin’ into my hand until he came. That red hot tongue licking up the underside of my dick ‘til he reaches the tip, then he starts again, and I’m fuckin’ throbbin’, wantin’ so bad to just shove his head down.

He keeps teasin’ me, licking and sucking, then swirls his tongue around my balls until I’m groaning and I reach to gently lift his chin, runnin’ my thumb over his bottom lip. “Won’t you show me what you can do with that pretty mouth, baby,” I tell him and his lips twitch a little in a smile. Oh but then he does somethin’ that really drives me crazy. He snatches just the tip of my thumb in his mouth and sucks on it a little. Fuck that’s beautiful. My pretty little baby suckin’ on my thumb like that.

He pops off, then takes my dick in hand and slowly sinks his mouth on it, makin’ me moan. Fuck he feels so good! So fuckin’ good. He sucks just the tip first, just the way I got a little taste of, when he did it to my thumb, swirling his tongue in little circles then teasing the slit. Then he sinks his mouth down further. He only gets about half to three quarters of the way down before he just can’t fit any more in his mouth and he has to come up for air. I think somebody’s got a gag reflex.

I kinda wanna push his head down to watch him gag, but I don’t wanna upset my baby if he doesn’t like that, so I do my best to resist and just lay back and watch. Man, my heart is racin’! He moves slow at first, with both his mouth and his hand wrapped around me, but then he gradually speeds up. “Whoa, slow down, baby,” I sooth and he moans, slowin’ his movement. “Take your time,” I breathe. Yeah, I wanna make this last. “Oh fuck that’s it,” I sigh, resting my hand on the back of his neck.

I don’t control his movement, but I just keep it there, strokin’ with my thumb, just lettin’ myself feel him. I’m already close, I can feel it, have been since the moment he slid off my lap. I’ve been just on that edge with the way he drives me so fuckin’ crazy, and now watchin’ him slowly go up and down on my dick I’m losin’ my mind. I’m sweatin’ just lookin’ at him, heart pounding in my chest, and I want so badly to just take him in both hands and fuck his mouth hard, but I don’t. I keep perfectly still.

I feel his spit drip down, and I groan when he takes his hand and smooths it all over my shaft as he sucks on me. Now all of it is slick and wet, then he matches his hand and mouth in perfect sync; as his mouth goes up, so does his hand, all in one fluid movement, which really drive me nuts because it almost feels like I’m inside him when he does that. My hips can’t help but raise, aimlessly chasin’ more, wantin’ to go deeper in that mouth, wantin’ it so bad I can fuckin’ taste it.

He senses it and starts goin’ as deep as he can, ‘til he starts to gag and goddamn. “Oh fuck, baby, don’t stop,” I moan. He hums around my dick and I start shakin’. Fuck I’m so close! So fuckin’ close! He speeds back up again and soon my hand is once more grippin’ his hair. Hopefully not too tight, but I don’t hear him complainin’ though. He’s still lettin’ out these sweet little moans around my dick, gettin’ higher and higher in pitch and I can’t hold back anymore. I start fuckin’ his mouth.

I feel it now. Quickly I yank his head back before I come in his mouth, and fuck that’s beautiful too, with his head back like that, and just to the side, my cum hits his neck and collar bone, drips down. Fuck, he looks good covered in my cum. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, what I’m lookin’ at right now. Ashton in nothin’ but that cute little bow, hair a mess, face red, tears stingin’ his eyes from where he was deep throatin’ me, lips swollen and trembling, painted white with my cum. Goddamn.

He blinks those pretty blue eyes and smiles at me. I wanna kiss that smile on his pretty pink lips. So I lean down to do just that. I pull him to me as I lean down and he follows. His hands grip my shoulders to keep from fallin’ on me as I taste that smile of his, kissin’ the corner of his mouth first before I taste that tongue next. Tastes good too. Fuck, I think I love everything about him. I have yet to find anything I don’t. But when we break apart we both look down to see the mess we made.

He chuckles a little. “Shower?” he suggests, and I nod. Then, before I let him up, I give him one last kiss on his cheek. I feel his smile widen.

I pull us up, strippin’ the rest of the way down, then he takes me by the hand and leads me back to his bathroom. It’s kinda cramped, but the walk-in shower looks like it’s just big enough for the two of us. Don’t know why he don’t like his apartment, but I guess I kinda understand. He said it don’t feel like home. You know, sometimes my house don’t really feel like one either? It’s so empty with just me there, and the Shelby. So quiet. Lonely. No dogs, no kids, no happiness of any kind.

Just me and that car. But lately I’ve been kind of hopeful that one day that will change. Ashton slides open the glass, turns the water on and adjusts the temperature. Then he pulls off his socks and struggles with his tie for a second, lookin’ like he’s stranglin’ himself tryna fight with it, which makes me chuckle and I reach for him. “Here, lemme get that,” I offer and help him get it off. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ and steps inside the shower. I step in behind him, eyes on that perfect body of his.

“Too hot?” he asks and I nod.

“Fuck yeah,” I say. “Oh you meant the water?”

His face turns a deeper shade of red and he covers it, smilin’ behind his hand though. He turns away from me bashfully for a moment, but the view only gets better from this angle. I pull him into my arms, makin’ sure to keep him under the water so he don’t get cold. The water is scaldin’ hot, a little too hot for my taste, but I don’t mind it. I tip his head back, soakin’ his hair and smooth it away from his face. My cum rinses away, and so does his that’s still coverin’ my chest, and he stares up at me.

He’s givin’ me that look again. You know the one where it’s like he doesn’t believe I even exist? That’s kinda how I feel right now too, lookin’ down at him. Sometimes I really don’t understand how it’s even possible. Everything he does just makes me fall harder. Faster, and deeper too. I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. I’ve never been in love before, but I think it feels like this. When you find that one person that makes you feel like you can do anything. That you’re capable of anything.

His eyes drop to the ink on my chest and he reaches up to trace the lines of my tattoos. “You like ‘em, huh?” I ask him and he nods. “Axel did most of ‘em.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you tell me about them?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, yeah I’ll tell you.”

I hold him, runnin’ my hands up and down his back and over his shoulders, lettin’ the water run cold on us as I tell him about every single one of my tattoos. The ones Axel’s put on me since I got out of prison, the ones I got when I was in prison, and the ones I had before that. There’s a couple on my legs too that he’s never seen. Some of the stories behind them are kind of funny, and I have him crackin’ up, almost in tears as I’m tellin’ him. But then he starts shivering. Water’s cold.

I turn it off and help him out of the shower. He hands me a towel and we dry off. He gets quiet all of the sudden, and kind of nervous, with this serious expression on his face, like he had at the restaurant before we left for his apartment. He don’t think it’s over now, does he? ‘Cause it’s far from over. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not unless he tells me to. But I ain’t leavin’ unless he’s shovin’ me out the door and tossin’ my clothes out after me. I think I wanna spend the rest of my life with this baby.

I certainly wanna spend the night if he’ll let me. Curl up in bed with him and snuggle the shit out of him all night long. Though I’ve definitely had enough time to rebuild by now, and I kinda wanna get him in bed for other reasons first. But I told him it’s all up to him how far we go tonight, so I guess I’ll just wait and see what happens. When we’re dried off I toss my towel aside and take him by the hand, leadin’ him out of the bathroom, to the bedroom right next to it, pullin’ him toward the bed.

I turn on the lamp that’s beside the bed. “What are you doing?” he asks me as I’m rippin’ the covers back.

“I’m gonna cuddle with your adorable ass, that’s what I’m doin’,” I say and he snickers at me. But we climb in, I tuck us under the covers, and pull him close. Still not close enough though. “Mnh, come ‘ere,” I mumble and he scoots closer until his back is flush with my chest as we’re spoonin’. Now this shit right here? Yeah, I can see myself doin’ this every night. We’re still kinda damp, so my hands don’t run perfectly smooth up his arm and along his side, but he’s soft, and he feels perfect.

I hug him as tight as I can without crushin’ him. I kiss his neck and shoulder and he whimpers a little, reachin’ up to curl his hand around my neck and rub the back of it. “That feels good,” he mumbles and I hum in agreement. It’s kind of inevitable that I start gettin’ hard again though, with that perfect ass smashed up against my junk. I don’t think he’s aware that he’s doin’ it, but he starts backin’ it up and grindin’ against my dick and fuck that feels good. I think somebody wants to get fucked.

I’ve thought about this for weeks now, since even before we started dating, basically since I laid eyes on him, thought about everything I’d do if I got him in my bed, plannin’ every moment from start to finish, fleshin’ out every second of it in perfect detail. Since I already got off I know this round won’t be so quick like when he went down on me, and the build will be much slower and more gradual, so this’ll take awhile. Which in my mind tells me I’ll get a chance to draw out every moment.

I’ll make it fuckin’ perfect for him. I’ll make for damn sure he never wants any other man but me, because nobody could ever make love to him like I do. I’m still kissin’ his neck, but I slowly turn him over to kiss that mouth instead. His tongue reaches for mine and I oblige, twistin’ my mouth against his ‘til I’m at just the right angle to delve deeper and make him moan. My hand slides down his chest, stoppin’ first at his nipple to tweak it a little, then run my thumb over it, and I feel him gasp. 

Fuck, I love the taste of that sound. He arches into my touch, cravin’ more of it, so I keep at it until his fingers dig into my skin. Then I slide my hand down further, just as his start to curl around my neck to pull me closer. I roll halfway on top of him and reach down to palm his groin, massagin’ his balls, makin’ him groan, before I start slowly jerkin’ his half hard erection. I get him completely hard and thrustin’ into my hand when I remember condoms and pull away from him to look down.

“Hold that thought,” I murmur. “I’ll be right back, just give me a minute.”

“O-Okay?” he stammers as I get up, then walk to the living room and dig through my pants pockets lookin’ for my wallet where I stuffed a few in case I might need ‘em. When I come back in the room I hold it up between my middle and index finger with a smirk, then I climb back in bed and lay it aside for when the time comes. But I notice as I pull him back into my arms and I’m kissin’ him that he seems kinda tense, and not in the “I’m really turned on” kinda way. He’s nervous again.

It’s just like last time when I had him at my house, in my bed, and he started babbling, gettin’ anxious for some reason. I know he’s not a virgin; he told me he likes bein’ penetrated, but I’m startin’ to notice a pattern here. He’s fine every other time, but when we talk about sex, or start to lead up to it, he gets real nervous about that shit for some unknown reason. I don’t know if it’s just ‘cause it’s our first time together or what it is, but I pull away to look down at him again. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he chirps, denyin’ that shit. Maybe it is just nerves. So I start kissin’ him again and touchin’ him, just like I was before, and he starts breathin’ heavy. I think at first he’s just excited, but then he starts pushin’ me away and I realize he’s panicking for some reason. “Brody–Brody wait,” he pants breathlessly. I pull away completely. Somethin’ about this just isn’t right. I know that as soon as he says, “I-I can’t. I just can’t, I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” So I nod a little, ‘cause I get it.

Somethin’s wrong, and I think we need to talk about this shit first, so I sit up. I’m really concerned right now, because the first thing that comes to mind is that he’s been sexually assaulted in the past and my heart pounds in fear for him. I’d hate to find out somebody ever hurt him, or me touchin’ him right now could maybe hurt him, because it reminds him of that shit. I don’t want him to ever think I’d harm a hair on his beautiful head. I ain’t that kinda guy, and I would never be.

“Baby, we ain’t gotta do nothin’ if you don’t want to,” I tell him, and he sighs.

“No, I want to,” he says. “I really want to, but I just…” He sits up in front of me, coverin’ himself up with the blanket like he’s shy all the sudden, lacin’ his fingers together in his lap, with a serious frown. He won’t look me in the eye anymore either. “Brody, there’s something I have to tell you first.”

“Okay?” I nod. “You can tell me anything. So talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I hold my breath for whatever he tells me next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	17. Emotional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I suck in a breath. I really don’t want to say it. But I have to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The chapter everyone's been holding a gun to my head for)
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Give Me Love"–Ed Sheeran](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=Tx6_mKDUTGk&feature=share)

ASH-

I pick at a loose thread on my comforter, feeling Brody’s eyes on me as I contemplate how to effectively explain myself without freaking him out. I’m going to regret this probably, like, as soon as I open my mouth it’s over between us. He’s not going to want to have sex with me, I just know he isn’t. I know as soon as he finds out just how weird it would be, he’s going to snatch up his clothes, hurriedly dress, and high tail it out of my apartment so fast my head spins. I just know it.

“Talk to me, baby,” he tells me, his voice so soft and sweet, and he sounds so concerned for me right now. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I swallow. “Nothing’s…nothing’s wrong really. I mean at least I don’t think so, but I don’t really know. It’s just…”

“What’s goin’ on?” he asks, and I grimace, squeezing my eyes shut.

“It’s…it’s just really embarrassing to talk about.”

“Alright,” he says. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. There ain’t nothin’ to be embarrassed about. It won’t change nothin’, baby, and there really ain’t nothin’ I ain’t already seen, heard of, or maybe even done myself, so won’t you tell me what’s botherin’ you.”

I groan a little. God this sucks. He says there isn’t anything he hasn’t heard of, but I bet he’s never heard of this. I suck in a breath. I really don’t want to say it. But I have to.

“Baby-”

“I cry during sex!” I blurt out, exhaling. My heart pounds in my chest for that five seconds of silence to follow. I peak my eyes open to see his reaction. He’s furrowing his brow in confusion, and slight worry.

“You know it ain’t supposed to hurt, right?” he asks carefully.

“No, it’s not like that,” I groan, shaking my head. “It’s just…it’s just when it feels really good, or it’s really intense, I get kind of…kind of emotional when that happens? I just really like it and I think it feels really good and so…so I cry. Because it’s just that intense for me. I’m not really sure why either, I just always have. I mean it’s not like I have psychological issues, that I know of? I’m just…sensitive I guess? Like, _extra_ sensitive and my emotions get heightened during sex. So I cry during sex.”

“Like, cryin’ as in actual tears and shit?”

I nod at that.

“So it feels good, and that makes you cry.”

“Uh-huh.”

“From start to finish, right? Like not afterwards or anythin’ but durin’?”

“Yup.”

He snorts a little. He pinches his lips together to keep from laughing, then covers his mouth. Finally he can’t hold it in and he starts chuckling at me, shaking the mattress, which makes me feel ten times worse and I start hugging myself, pulling my knees up and bunching in a ball. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m not laughin’ at you,” he tells me. “I swear I’m not. It’s just that…” He snorts again. “I mean _that’s_ what all this is about? You just didn’t want me knowin’ you cry durin’ sex? Like, that’s all it was?”

I scowl at him. Not only is he laughing, but now he’s making it sound like it’s no big deal when it’s a _very_ big deal. “It’s not funny,” I pout. 

He tries to curb his laughter. “I’m sorry, it’s not you, I promise, it’s just…” He cracks up again. “I mean, goddamn baby I thought it was somethin’ serious! You kinda had me scared for a minute,” he says, but then he takes deep breaths to calm down, until finally he just sighs at me. “Oh baby, come here,” he says and reaches out with both hands to cup my face and kiss me. “You cry all you want to, I don’t mind one bit.” He kisses me again, but now I’m just confused and I sputter. He’s not weirded out by it?

“You don’t care?” I ask. He shakes his head.

“Nah. Sounds kinda hot actually.”

He kisses me again, but I’m still confused. Like, how is he okay with this? “Do you have some sort of, like, rape fantasy or something?” I ask, mostly because I’m curious. I wouldn’t really mind, as long as he kept it along the lines of role playing, and didn’t actually try to assault me. I know a lot of people that are into that kind of thing, tons of people into BDSM and those folks can be kind of wild and out there with their various kinks, so it wouldn’t surprise me. If it’s two consenting adults I see nothing wrong with it. 

But he chuckles again, shaking his head.

“No,” he tells me. “Hell no. I ain’t like that. But I mean if you’re cryin’ just ‘cause it feels that good…” He ends that on a shrug. “Might look good too, just sayin’.”

“Okay but I’m not talking the sexy kind of crying like a young, hot Johnny Depp with the single tear rolling down his cheek like in 1990’s Cry Baby type of crying,” I say. “Like, I’m talking full on ugly tears streaming down my face and gut wrenching sobs level of crying here. It’s not pretty.”

“Won’tcha let _me_ be the judge of that, huh?” he tells me, then grabs my hips and slides me down. My head hits the pillow and he crawls on top of me, then kisses me again. Like seriously, what the fuck! How can he be _okay_ with this?! He moves along my jaw to my ear and gently tugs on my earlobe with his teeth. “Let’s see if I can make you _cry_, baby,” he groans right in my ear and meanwhile I’m still flipping out about the fact that he’s _not_ flipping out. How is this even possible?!

I have all this nervous energy because I’m partly excited and thinking this is too good to be true, but I’m also freaking out still because what if it’s _not_ and so I start rambling. “I-It doesn’t always happen,” I say as he’s kissing my neck. “I mean not like every single time? Like just when you go slow so if you want to be rough we can do that? Or like I could be facing away from you so you don’t have to see it? Like, if you’re behind me it might sound more like I’m moaning and not actually crying, because it’s-”

“Ash,” he says, lifting his head. I open my mouth, but he shushes me again. “Ash, baby, just shut up let me make love to you.”

I sigh at that. Shit, maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time I just lay back, relax, and let someone love me for once, because God knows I’ve been needing it. Maybe Brody really is that guy I’ve been looking for. I relax the tension in my frame and let him kiss me, my arms encircling him, fingers brushing his skin. He just lays on top of me for a while, spending a significant amount of time just holding me and kissing me, until I’m completely relaxed, not even stressed at all anymore, and he feels wonderful. 

Now I’m getting turned on again, feeling the heat that’s rolling off of him in waves, fingers brushing my side as one arm is curled around me, and with his other hand he runs fingers through my damp hair. He starts grinding against me, making me want to lift my hips and meet each thrust. I need him inside of me. I’ve never wanted something so badly in my entire life. Finally, after what feels like hours of torture, his mouth leaves mine to travel down my body, at a nice slow easy pace.

Eventually his teeth find my nipple and tease it a little. His hand finds the other, his thumb rolls over it, and both are an equally electrifying sensation that leaves me whining and simpering, needing more. He sucks one first until I’m writhing beneath him, then he moves to the other and my hands are fists in his hair. He’s going to go as slow as possible with this isn’t he? Because he _wants_ to see me in such intense pleasure that I burst into tears? Like he wants to see if he can actually accomplish that tonight.

Almost like it’s a challenge for him. Let’s see just how bonkers we can drive Ashton tonight. It’s very likely to happen, because this feels _amazing_. His hands skim over me as he kisses a trail down my abdomen, stopping every once in awhile just to linger, nibbling and sucking on my flesh. Finally he pulls the blanket away and shifts around so that he’s partially laying down, right between my legs, and his head dips so he can kiss my hip in various places while he massages the other.

He steadily gets closer and closer to my groin and my hips jerk upward a little at the feel of his breath on my shaft, teasing me just like I did to him earlier before I sucked him off. He takes quite a bit of time with that too, licking and sucking until he sinks his mouth over my dick and I start trembling all over, aching and throbbing at the feel of his hot mouth around me. Fuck, he’s giving me head right now! I’m not as sensitive as I would have been right after I got off, but it’s still pretty intense.

He goes so slowly and all the while he pleasures me with his hands too. One is rubbing my thigh and the other is continuously massaging my testicles, drawing them up while he twirls his tongue around. He sinks all the way down to the base and just stays there for a second or two. Then he does something that I can’t quite figure out what specifically it is at first, because it hits me so suddenly, but for a second I feel like I’m going to come. “Oh fuck!” I gasp. Oh! I figured it out. 

I feel his thumb pressing against my perineum as he cups my balls and swallows around my dick. Wow he is really great at this! Every guy I’ve ever been with kind of sucks in comparison, and not the good kind of suck. He lifts his head and reaches to push my leg up, so now it’s bent and he has better access to tease me with his mouth and fingers. I feel his saliva drip down and I get excited, absently raising my pelvis because I so desperately want his tongue down there and my body knows it too. 

His tongue never quite reaches that far though, just to the underside of my sac and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it if he doesn’t like rimming, but _fuck_ this is driving me insane! He lifts his head again but this time it’s to ask, “You got lube?” Somehow I manage to nod despite the fact that my head is spinning. He sits up and crawls toward the nightstand, pointing at it questioningly and again I nod. He sifts through it, finds the bottle, then tosses it on the bed.

My eyes rake over him above me and once again I just lose my mind at how handsome and fucking incredible he is. Hard too. I see just a drop of precum beading at the tip when I look down, watching it twitch a little. He pushes my legs back and spreads them wide. He grips the back of my thighs to hold my legs up, then bends down to resume teasing, always almost but not quite reaching my hole. My hands are back in his hair, alternating between petting and squeezing when he hits a sensitive spot.

My ass reflexively clenches around nothing, wishing it was him, or at least his fingers. Something, anything really, but to my utmost relief he murmurs, “You want me to finger you, baby?”

Yes! God yes! Please!

“Yeah,” I say with a fervent nod. I need it too. I didn’t have any expectations of going all the way tonight, so I’m not fully prepped like I normally would be. I jerked off this morning, but I didn’t wear a plug at any point today and it’s been so long, so he’ll have to open me up with his fingers first. I let out a moan when I feel his hand slide down, followed by his middle finger rubbing over my hole, just around the rim, already slick with saliva. Then he presses it in, just to the first knuckle and withdraws.

He does it repeatedly, just pressing in with the tip of his finger, then withdrawing, and as he does so he swipes my perineum, then the process repeats, and all the while he watches intently like a cat following a mouse with his gleaming eyes. By the time he finally gets around to opening the bottle of lube and slicking his fingers to press one all the way in, I’m so relaxed that it just slides right in with no resistance whatsoever and I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh fuck,” I’m moaning.

I feel a little dampness in the corner of my eye, and he hasn’t even fucked me yet.

He takes his time with that first finger too. It feels like forever that he fucks me with it, almost but never reaching my prostate, just slowly but surely stretching me open, until I start rocking my hips and begging for more. Finally he slides in a second along with it and I feel that amazing stretch again. I’m addicted to that feeling. Just like Brody can’t seem to resist the urge to slap more tattoos on his body, I can’t get enough of that feeling of fullness, just something, anything, inside of me.

I crave it with every fiber of my being. I’m whining and simpering like a two year old by the time he finally gets around to adding a third, but at no point does it ever hurt. Just feels incredible, to the point that my eyes are watery and I just know that I’m going to burst into tears when he finally starts fucking me. I start feeling not quite like myself anymore, but like someone else. Me, but not me. I start feeling like I _am_ that two year old, that whining, crying, pouting two year old.

Start feeling like Brody is that teddy bear everyone’s been trying to take from me. I think he is, actually. Brody is my happiness everyone’s been trying to rob from me because they say I’m too old for it, and suddenly I don’t feel like being so grown up anymore. I just want to be little again, hug my teddy bear tightly, and never let him go. My moans gradually get higher and higher in pitch as he fucks me with his fingers until I’m bracing myself against the headboard, bearing down on them.

Then finally–finally!–he pulls out and searches for that condom, tearing open the package with his teeth and slipping it on. He takes one of my pillows then shifts me around to put it underneath me and raise me up a little. Slathers on more lube and then he’s pressing into me. I’m trying to hold back the tears but I can’t anymore. He feels too amazing, the way he slowly, inch by inch, slides into me, stretching me to my fullest, filling me up, and when he’s deep inside of me I let out a sob.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” I hear him moan, and I see him above me, looking and feeling incredible, but you know what hits me the hardest? He’s looking at me like I’m the most incredible thing in the world still, like he’s never seen a more breathtaking sight. I let out another choked sob, tears streaming down the sides of my face. “That feel good, baby?” he asks me and all I can do is nod as I’m crying. Oh but then he starts moving, just so slowly, staying deep inside of me, and I lose my mind completely.

“Oh fuck!” I heave, breathing heavily, shaking from head to toe. 

He groans above me. Oh yeah that's it, that's all it takes, and now I'm bursting into those uncontrollable tears, and ugly gut wrenching sobs.

_Oh please don’t hate it_, I think to myself, my vision blurring from the tears pouring out. _Please don't freak out, just love me, please just love me! _

I hear him moaning above me, saying, “Oh fuck, baby, that’s fuckin’ beautiful.” I choke out another sob. Then he praises me again. “Fuck you feel so good!” I start heaving relentless sobs now as he fucks me because I hear it in his voice that he means it, he’s not just saying it to make me feel good. He really does think all those things about me. I feel him lean down and kiss my face, then my lips, and my arms wrap tightly around his neck. I shift my legs up higher and wrap them around him too.

He steadily picks up the pace, never moving too fast though, just…just perfect. Just right. Just how I want it. This is how it’s _supposed_ to feel, isn’t it? It’s supposed to feel incredible. Sex isn’t supposed to make you feel horrible, feel ashamed in anyway, or like some kind of freak of nature, and it’s not supposed to make you feel ugly. Sex is supposed to feel wonderful, and fuck does it feel like that right now! He hits me at just the right angle that I start feeling like I could come, and he notices too.

“Oh fuck yeah, baby, come for me,” he murmurs, and I start to feel all that pleasure stacking on top of itself like blocks. In my head I imagine just one more thing added to that statement though. Imagine his voice saying those words is what makes me come. In my head he’s saying, “Come for Daddy.” So sweetly in my ear, just like the way he’s talking to me now. Soft and sweet, so caring and loving, like I’m the most precious thing in the world. Like I really am his Baby. I really _really_ want to be.

I choke out another sob as I’m coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	18. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _From the moment that first tear started sliding down his face I’ve been roped in, and I can’t take my eyes off this beautiful baby boy underneath me now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: ["Sad Eyes"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=mqc3iNc12Oc&feature=share)

BRODY-

From the moment that first tear started sliding down his face I’ve been roped in, and I can’t take my eyes off this beautiful baby boy underneath me now. I mean fuck he’s just fuckin’ amazing. With his hair all mussed, his cheeks blotchy and red from cryin’, lips all swollen, with those watery blue eyes, because it just feels _that damned good_ for him. Whoever told this baby he wasn’t beautiful like this, that his cryin’ was ugly, I’d like to find that asshole and slit his goddamn throat.

I’d like to track down every man that ever made him feel like he had to be ashamed of himself and cave their head in. Because he’s fuckin’ incredible, and the fact that I can make him feel just as good as he makes me feel right now? It’s fuckin’ wonderful, that’s what it is. Oh I’m _never_ lettin’ this baby go. He’s stuck with me now. I’d _kill_ for this baby right here. I’d do anything he asked me to. Just set fire to the whole goddamn world then sit back and watch it burn if it made him happy.

“Oh fuck yeah, baby, come for me,” I moan when I feel how close he’s gettin’, then seconds later I feel him throbbin’. I’m so out of my mind when I feel it that not long after I come too. He’s still sobbing and crying underneath me, only now it’s from the pleasure of his orgasm, and I do my best to keep from crushin’ him with my weight as I ride out the aftershocks of mine. I feel like I can’t breathe and I’m fuckin’ shakin’ because goddamn that was intense! Fuck I think I might even cry too.

But when I slowly start to pull out he gets clingy, almost like a little child, sobbin’, “No! Don’t go! Please don’t go!” Wrappin’ his arms tighter around me to the point I think I might choke as he’s cryin’ into my shoulder. I slide back in, settle back down on top of him, and he quiets a little. My baby thinks I’m _leavin_’ him? I’m startin’ to wonder if any man has ever properly loved him if he’s scared to death I might run out on him like that. I tilt my head to kiss his tear streaked face to sooth him.

He don’t even seem to be concerned with how uncomfortable of a position this might be for him with his legs up like that, and me smashed against him, still inside him and pressin’ right up against his prostate even after he came. I think could actually be genuine age regression that’s makin’ him act like this. I distinctly heard ‘pwease’, not ‘please’ when he spoke. Like he’s usin’ baby talk. But he’s clingin’ to me like he’s afraid that if he releases me I’ll disappear into thin air like a ghost. 

So I stay right where I am, shifting onto my elbows to hold myself up, and kiss the side of his head. 

I wanna say, “Hush, baby, don’t cry. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you and he ain’t goin’ nowhere,” But I don’t, because it might freak him out. He might have issues with that kind of thing. But it’s just that every fiber of my being wants to take care of him, wants to hold him, sooth him and make him happy somehow. But I do shush him a little, saying, “Shh, it’s alright, I’m not leavin’.” But I’m startin’ to go down, and I don’t wanna accidentally lose the condom inside him. So I brainstorm for a second.

If this happens after every time we have sex I’ll definitely have to plan ahead, that way I make sure he’s stays comfortable and doesn’t get upset. I try to keep still inside him so I’m not hurtin’ him as I shift kind of onto my side and cradle his face, brushin’ my thumb over his cheek. “Hey,” I murmur in his ear. “Hey, it’s alright, baby. It’s alright.” He relaxes a little, turns his head slightly into my hand, nuzzling it affectionately kinda like a cat. Instinctively my thumb brushes over that pretty little mouth.

Oh but that does the trick though. He opens his mouth and touches the pad of it to his tongue before he slowly draws it in and sucks on it. That makes him let me go, eyes squeezing tightly shut as he grips my hand with both of his, holdin’ it to his face while he sucks my thumb. I start to get hard again and can’t help but just watch for a second or two as those beautiful lashes flutter over those freckled cheeks and he hums contentedly in utter bliss, suckin’ on my thumb. His legs drop when he goes limp.

I use that as a kind of distraction while I pull out of him. He whimpers a little, so I do my best to stay close to his face, plantin’ little kisses on his nose and cheek so he knows I’m there at all times, while with my free hand I slide the condom off, pinch it at the end so my cum doesn’t dribble out, then toss it in the waste basket near the bed. He’s got Kleenex on the nightstand so I snatch a couple of those to clean us both up before I come back to him, settle down beside him, drapin’ my leg over his.

Then I just watch, strokin’ his hair, as he slowly settles more and more, still suckin’ on my thumb and fuck he’s beautiful. I can’t help but rub the pad of my thumb over his tongue a few times, makin’ him whimper in response and his hips raise a few times. He’s so fuckin’ sexy, and at the same time so adorable, and I just want to stay like this forever. Fuck it, I don’t need two hands, just one, and he can have the other. I kiss the side of his face, then look back down at him. His eyes flutter open.

He looks right up at me with those big blue eyes, mouth hanging slightly open, then does somethin’ that makes me lose my mind all over again. He _hiccups_. It’s the cutest, sweetest, most precious thing I have ever seen in my entire life, and now I _know_ I’m in love with him. I, Brody Eckhart, have fallen so deep I doubt a fuckin’ submarine could find me this far down. But he’s startin’ to come out of it now, startin’ to become more self aware, blinkin’ and lookin’ around, then pushes my hand away.

He rubs both eyes like he’s tired and takes a deep breath, glancin’ up at me sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I-I don’t know why I did that.” 

“I don’t mind,” I tell him. I lean down to kiss him softly on the cheek. Now that I see he’s coherent again, I peel myself off the bed to use the bathroom. He sits up too.

“You don’t have to leave,” he rushes to say, and I turn back to him. “I mean, you can stay the night if you want. You don’t have to go. But if you want to leave, I…I understand.”

He’s wringin’ his hands nervously and soundin’ like he thinks he scared me off or somethin’. I smile at him. “I’m just usin’ the bathroom, baby.”

He blinks. “Oh.” 

I chuckle, then walk back over to where he’s sittin’ on the bed and bend down to kiss him again, my hand slidin’ over his cheek. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I tell him again. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of me. You’ll have to chase me out with a baseball bat.” He snorts a little at that. But he’s smilin’ again, so after one last kiss I head off to the bathroom. When I get out I head to the living room real quick to snatch up my underwear ‘cause I sleep better with it on, and I check my phone for missed calls.

I come back with it. “You mind if I plug my phone in?” I ask him and he shakes his head, pointin’ to the charge chord next to the bed. We both have similar phones so the charger’s compatible and it beeps to let me know it’s chargin’. I crawl back in bed and flip the lamp off, pullin’ him close to me so that his head is restin’ on my shoulder and my arm is around him, tuckin’ us back under the covers. I feel him exhale a sigh as he shifts closer to me, throw his arm across my chest, and his leg over me.

“If-if you need to smoke or anything, you don’t have to go outside,” he tells me. “You can just open a window or something. I don’t think my landlord will notice.”

“It’s alright,” I say. “I really only want a cigarette when I’ve been drinkin’.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

“I used to smoke constantly when I was younger, but bein’ locked up and not able to have any killed the urge. But I used to drink a lot too, so whenever I have a beer or somethin’ it reminds me of smokin’ and I get that urge to do it again. Thinkin’ maybe I should quit drinkin’ too.”

He snorts a little. “They say old habits die hard.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda true.”

There’s a stretch of silence after that and I start feelin’ like I might doze off. He feels so good layin’ against me like this, and the apartment’s so quiet. I don’t hear no noise from any of his neighbors. Nothin’ but the sound of the central air when it kicks on. It’s peaceful. But then he starts shiftin’ around, fidgeting a little, pickin’ at his nails and bitin’ ‘em. I lift my head to look down at what I can see of him in the darkness. “You alright, baby?” I ask him, and I feel him shrug in response.

“I just…I feel bad about what happened,” he tells me. “I didn’t mean to–to freak out on you like that? I-I don’t know why I did it really. I just…I don’t know what came over me, why I was clinging to you like that. I just…I feel kind of stupid for doing it.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly so I don’t get pissed off. I really don’t like hearin’ him talk like it was such a bad thing, like there’s somethin’ wrong with him. ‘Cause there ain’t nothin’ wrong with him. Nothin’ wrong at all. Hearin’ him put himself down like that aggravates the shit out of me honestly. I run my fingers up and down his arm. “You wanna talk about it?” I ask him. “You know, like what might’ve happened to make you act like that?”

“I don’t know why I acted like that,” he shrugs. “I just…suddenly I felt like a toddler and somebody was taking my teddy bear away from me.”

Aw, now see that just sounds insanely adorable, and now I’m picturin’ Ashton in my head in a pair of pinstriped pajamas carryin’ around a giant fuckin’ teddy bear. 

“So I’m your teddy bear, huh?” I chuckle.

“Kind of yeah,” he says. “You know like in the metaphorical sense,” he quickly adds. “Not like…not like an actual teddy bear? Not like I think I’m a little kid or something, ‘cause that–that would be weird, r-right?” Well he was kinda actin’ like one. Maybe he’s never done it before so he don’t even understand he’s regressin’. “I’m sorry. That had to have been really weird. I mean first I’m bawling like a baby during sex and then I’m clinging to you like a two year old, and sucking your thumb!”

He sighs, and adds, “God you must think I’m some sort of basket case.”

Okay _now_ I’m pissed.

“Alright that’s it,” I huff. “I can’t do this with you.” I start to sit up and he’s freakin’ out again ‘cause I’m irritated as I reach up to flip the lamp back on and stare down at him, scowling. He looks kinda scared, but he don’t have to be. “I don’t wanna hear you say shit like that about yourself,” I tell him. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you, baby, and if I had a problem with somethin’ you did I’d tell you. But I mean if you got some kinda issues you’re workin’ through, we should talk about that shit.”

“I-I don’t,” he stammers. “I mean I don’t think I do, but I mean fuck, Brody! I was crying the whole time we were having sex! I mean what kind of freak does that–mph!”

Yeah I clamped my hand down around his mouth to shut him up. His eyes are huge on his face. I slowly shake my head. “What did I _just_ tell you?” I ask him slowly. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that shit about yourself, ever again. Understand me?” He squeaks behind my hand and I take that as a yes. “The only kind of freak you are is the kind I wanna fuck the shit out of every night. But there ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. Alright? So stop sayin’ that shit about yourself.”

Another muffled response. 

I slowly take my hand away, and now I see that he’s just starin’ up at me in shock like he can’t believe I’m sayin’ this shit right now. “You cry and you cling to me all you want, baby. Don’t feel like you gotta be ashamed of that shit, alright? You start thinkin’ those kinds of things, hell, makes me think maybe I oughtta be ashamed of myself too, just for havin’ feelings. Should I be?” His lip trembles a little and his eyes shine with fresh tears. He shakes his head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“You’re not a freak, baby,” I add. “There’s nothin’ that needs changin’ about you. You’re perfect just the way you are.” 

“R-Really?” he asks me in this tiny voice, like he’s scared to believe it’s true. I nod my head.

“Yeah,” I tell him. He scrunches his face up a little like any second now he’ll burst into tears again. I lay back down on top of him, slippin’ my arms around him. “So _please_ don’t say stuff like that,” I plead with him. He nods a little. “I’ll tell you what I wanna hear you say instead.” I lean down close to his ear. “Now repeat after me: I love the way you fuck me.” 

I feel his breath quicken a little, then he swallows and says, “I…l-love the way you f-fuck me.”

“It feels so good it makes me wanna cry.”

There’s a pause, then, “It feels so good it makes me want to cry.”

“Please fuck me like that again.”

He whimpers a little, then with the sweetest voice imaginable he says, “Please fuck me like that again.”

“Well, I would, but I’m kinda tired,” I dismay and I hear him chuckle. “I mean you really wore me out. You’ll have to give me a little more time before I’m ready for another round.”

I kiss his cheek and feel him sniffle a little. “Thank you,” he tells me. “I think…I think I needed that.”

“You ain’t gotta thank me for tellin’ the truth, baby,” I say, then reach up to flip the light switch again, and when I settle back down in the bed next to him he hugs me tight.

When we fall asleep I have this crazy dream though. It’s fuckin’ vivid too. I’m in my house and I see Ashton standin’ there, wearin’ this baby blue button up with white stripes and matchin’ pajama pants, and he’s holdin’ a teddy bear, with his thumb in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes. I’ve been gone all day at work and he’s been missin’ me, ‘cause he’s been stuck here at the house all alone, all by himself, with nobody to play with. He pulls out his thumb and takes me by the hand.

“Come play with me, Daddy,” he says, and pulls me toward the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	19. Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Are you serious?” I gaze up at him, eyes wide and hopeful still, wringing my hands in nervousness. “Like…like for real you’d…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’d be my Daddy?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The chapter we’ve _all_ been waiting for)
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Cry Baby"–The Neighborhood](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=r4LGe12tNR8&feature=share)

ASH-

I expect to wake up and find him gone, bed empty, and no trace of Brody’s existence whatsoever in my apartment. I can’t tell you how many times it’s happened to me before. Where I’d wake to find my sleeping partner already having dressed and left my apartment while I’m passed out, with no note goodbye and not so much as a number or any way to contact them. I would wake and pat the empty spot next to me, then scramble out of my bed to check to make sure I wasn’t robbed.

But when I blink my eyes open and squint at the blaring sun shining in my eyes through the window I feel something moving up and down beside me, breathing. I raise my head to see the muscular, tattooed arm that my face has been smashed up against. I also realize I’ve been sucking my thumb in my sleep again and quickly pull it out of my mouth before he wakes up and sees it. But there he is, on his back next to me, snoozing away, looking so handsome even when he’s sleeping.

I notice he doesn’t snore either. Nope, not a sound comes out except for soft puffs of breath through his nose. He’s got one arm thrown up under the pillow and it looks like the other was around me before I started tossing and turning in my sleep. Mom calls me a ‘bed crab’, because I’m like those crabs that skitter around in circles? One time when I was five she found me in my bed laying with my head at the _foot_ of the bed, because I turned completely around in my sleep. Weird, right?

Brody stirs a little, mumbles something, then without opening his eyes his arm reaches to scoop me up and pull me back to his chest where I fell asleep. He lets out a pleasurable groan and kisses my forehead. “Mornin’,” he murmurs and I smile, burrowing closer and hugging him tight. Then both his arms wrap around me, and his fingers brush my skin. I whisper a ‘good morning’ back to him and we just lay there for a while in silence while Brody gradually becomes more and more awake. 

I start getting hungry though. I’m a breakfast and coffee person, so eggs with a side of toast sound really good right now. “I’m gonna make breakfast,” I say and he nods.

“You got any coffee?” he grumbles and I chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ll make us some.”

I get up, throw on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt then go about my morning routine before I head to my small kitchen area connected to the living space. There’s just enough room for a kitchenette with two dining chairs by the window, a stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher next to the sink. It’s not much, but I’m not about to complain considering how cheap my rent is. Landlord’s a pretty laid back guy too, and other than his tenants not tearing up his apartments, he has very low expectations of them.

Brody comes in from the bathroom just as I’ve finished putting on a pot of coffee and I’m starting eggs. We’re both quiet, just enjoying the nice morning, and when the coffee pot beeps I reach for two coffee mugs from the cabinet. “You like cream and sugar?” I ask and he nods, rising from where he’s been sitting at the table to make his cup, while I fetch the sugar and powdered creamer from the shelf for us. “How do you like your eggs?” I ask next and he shrugs.

“However you wanna make ‘em, baby.” He leans over and pecks me with a kiss. “It’s smellin’ good,” he compliments. I smile and flip the eggs over-easy with the spatula. But then I nearly drop it when I hear, “Did you know you suck your thumb in your sleep?”

“Oh my god,” I exclaim, palming my face with both hands, blushing in embarrassment. “Oh my god! You saw that?!”

He chuckles. “Yeah.” 

Oh my fucking god! He saw me sucking my thumb! I smear a hand across my face, then pick up the spatula to flip the eggs again to keep them from burning, then slide them off the skillet and onto a plate. The toast pops in the toaster, making me jump. “It’s…uhm, just kind of a-a hard habit to break,” I stammer with a little shrug. “I used to do it when I was little, and my mom couldn’t get me to stop until I was like eight? But sometimes I’d do it anyway? I didn’t stop completely ‘til I was like fifteen.”

Oh my god why am I telling him this?! Like, this is so fucking embarrassing! But the words just tumble out. “I-I don’t do it on purpose or anything, I just…sometimes I wake up like that.”

“Eh, I sucked my thumb when I was little too,” he admits with a chuckle. “I like to think that pretty much everybody does shit like that? But like, nobody ever admits to it. I guess just ‘cause they ain’t secure enough in their relationship that they think they gotta hide shit. Men especially. Like it somehow diminishes our masculinity to admit we sucked our thumb or had a stuffed animal.” He shrugs. “I think it’s kind of adorable really,” he says. “Kinda makes me think of last night.”

“Adorable? For a twenty-eight year old to be sucking his thumb? It’s fucking weird-Ah!”

He spanked me! Didn’t hurt or anything, but it startled me. “Now what I tell you about sayin’ shit like that?” he chides, and I pout. “It ain’t that weird, and besides, I think it’s kinda cute.”

“Ha! Yes, cute,” I grumble. “Right. He thinks I’m cute when I act like a toddler. I could just see us now. Me in an adult onesie with my thumb in my mouth and a teddy bear, using baby-talk all the time and calling you Daddy.”

I mean it jokingly, but is it weird that I kind of want that actually? Or at least something similar? Just to be cute and sweet and use baby-talk, call Brody Daddy and let him spoil me and dote on me twenty-four seven? I’ve met guys that would let me call them Daddy, but they were kind of the opposite of sweet and loving, and instead they’d incorporate it into their dom/sub dynamic. It was more about punishment and consequences for being “bad”, and less about baby-talk.

To be someone’s Baby was just kind of demeaning. They’d always want to handcuff me and paddle me, which I didn’t mind, but I don’t derive any kind of pleasure from pain, so it was more for their benefit than mine. I have yet to find a soft, sweet and caring Daddy, who also doesn’t mind my freak ability to cry when I feel intense pleasure. But Brody chuckles, saying, “Nah, see, you can’t say things like that to me,” he tells me, sipping his coffee, and I furrow my brow in confusion at him.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I like that kinda thing,” he says, and I freeze. “I like it a lot actually.” I stare blankly at the eggs, toast and butter container for a moment. He…_likes_ it? My heart pounds frantically in my excitement and sudden hope. Would he really want to be my Daddy? Like for real? He’s not being sarcastic is he? Fuck I hope not. Oh my god is this why he’s okay with me crying during sex and acting like a two year old? Because Brody’s a Daddy? So maybe my behavior was actually a huge turn-on for him? Shit!

“Are you serious?” I gaze up at him, eyes wide and hopeful still, wringing my hands in nervousness. “Like…like for real you’d…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’d be my Daddy?”

His eyes flick to mine and there’s a gleam in them that wasn’t there before, and he bites his lip at me. “You kinda like that idea, huh,” he says, and I pinch my lips together, nodding. 

“I mean I was just joking because I didn’t really think you’d…but I mean if you’d want to…”

He sets down his coffee and slowly steps around until he’s right behind me, and runs his hands up my arms. “You really want somethin’ like that?” he murmurs softly in my ear. “Huh, baby? You want Brody to be your Daddy?” Oh fuck he’s using baby-talk! “You wanna let Daddy take good care of you?” He circles his arms around me. “Buy you whatever you want and spoil you rotten?” he asks as he’s cradling me, swaying and sort of rocking me from side to side and my eyes start to fall shut. 

“Would my Baby like that?” he asks me.

I feel myself nod a little at the question, then hear myself mumble a tiny ‘uh-huh’. He hums contentedly at my response. “Would you punish me if I’m bad?” I ask and he hums again, thinking about it.

“I don’t think my Baby could ever be bad. But would you want Daddy to?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Then Daddy won’t hurt you, Baby. Daddy will _never_ hurt you. ‘Cause my Baby gets whatever he wants. Whatever he needs, ‘cause Daddy only wants ta see him cryin’ happy tears.” I’m so deliriously turned on right now and unconsciously grinding against him. I want all those things. I want them all for the rest of my life. He’s so sweet too. He’s got the sweet, cute “Daddy Loves You” voice and I just melt when I hear it. I start feeling like I felt last night. Like I don’t want to be grown-up anymore.

“But you…you really like that stuff?” I ask with a tiny voice, still not quite believing it still. “You really wouldn’t mind it?”

He chuckles. “Mind it? Fuck, baby, I want it. You have no idea how bad I want that kinda shit.”

God Almighty I have _found my man_.

“Wait you don’t,” he starts, “You don’t like have any kinda issues with that shit, do you?”

“What, you mean like ‘daddy issues’?” I chuckle, feeling him nod. I shake my head. “No, no I don’t have daddy issues. I just…I just really like it too,” I admit. “I just didn’t think…but you _do_, so…You wanna be my Daddy, and let me be your Baby?”

“Fuck yeah. Kinda just wanna say fuck the food and just fuck you right here, right now,” he tells me, and I’m on the same page with that notion. I turn in his arms and stand on my toes to attack him with a feverish kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull myself up and wrap my legs around him next. He doesn’t even stumble, though he does take a single step back to counterbalance the sudden shift in weight. I kiss his mouth first, then all over his face, moaning and whimpering.

“Take me to the bedroom, Daddy,” I say.

“_Fuck_,” he curses again under his breath, and he starts walking out of the kitchen with me in his arms. I just can’t believe how perfect he is! He wants to be my Daddy. He wants to take care of me. He gets us to the bed and lays me down on it, making out with me like his life depends on it and I think this is his biggest kink too, just like it is for me. Holy shit even our kinks line up perfectly! He starts working me out of my t-shirt, then our underwear is next, saying, “Daddy’s gonna make his Baby feel good.”

I moan a little, biting my lip. I really want Daddy to make me feel good. He kisses me again, and before I completely drop the concept of big boy talk I ask, “Can I call you that all the time? Or like just when we have sex? Because I’m good with either one.”

“Whenever you want, baby, however you want,” he tells me, pressing searing hot kisses to my neck. “Fuck you can have whatever you want,” he says and wow is his breath really labored right now, almost like he already came in his boxers at just the thought of me being his Baby. “Daddy wants to take care of you _all_ the time,” he adds. “All day. Every day. You gonna let Daddy do that, Baby?” he asks me and I nod feverishly, giving him a little ‘uh-huh’, because I can’t even find the words.

He’s completely hard and fucking throbbing when he says, “Roll over for Daddy.” He’s still gentle, but he’s not nearly as patient as he was last night, and I think it’s because he’s just that ridiculously turned on right now. I am too. I do as he says and roll onto my stomach. I feel him shift around behind me, then spread my legs wider. Then I hear a popping sound. The cap on my bottle of lube, which makes me whimper and raise my ass. I feel drops of it right over my hole, then his fingers.

He smooths it over me. “Fuck!” I hear him curse angrily. “Hold on, Baby, Daddy will be right back. Don’t you move, sweetheart.”

He leaves. I wait, heart pounding. He comes back and I’m elated. I hear a package being torn open with teeth. _Oh a condom! Daddy almost forgot to put on a condom. Daddy’s so responsible. Much more than Baby would be_. I patiently wait for him to slip it on, anxiously rocking my hips until I feel the tip rubbing against me before he slowly presses in. I groan, tears stinging my eyes, when I feel the head push past the entrance and he slowly slides in, filling me up. I feel him trembling. 

He settles down on top of me, propping himself up with his elbows. “That feel good, Baby?”

“Uh-huh,” I sob, sniffling. _So good. Daddy’s very exceptional at making Baby feel good._ He groans right in my ear as he starts to thrust. I lay my head against the pillow, turned just to the side so I can breathe and sob my heart out. He’s not as slow as he was last night, but only because he’s so close already, and he doesn’t move too fast for me. He’s shaking because he’s trying so hard not to move too fast or be too rough with his Baby. I feel him stroke my hair and kiss the side of my face.

“Daddy wants you to do somethin’ for him, Baby,” he says, and I listen carefully. “Won’t you suck your thumb for Daddy.” I whimper a little and pull my hand out from where it was jammed underneath the pillow, then I stick it in my mouth. “Oh that’s beautiful,” he sighs, still stroking my hair and watching me over my shoulder. “My sweet little baby bein’ so good to his Daddy an’ suckin’ his thumb like that. You like bein’ good for Daddy?” I mumble ‘uh-huh’ around my thumb. “Daddy likes it too, Baby.”

He continues stroking my hair, kissing my face, then my neck and shoulder as he fucks me, murmuring little praises in my ear, and I’m so overstimulated by all the Daddy talk that I start to feel like I’m close. I don’t need to squeeze my eyes shut and imagine it because he’s right here, above me. My Daddy being so good to his Baby, making me moan and whimper around my thumb. I’m not completely in that head space like I was last night, still vaguely aware of adult concepts, but they’re slipping away.

He’s moaning and groaning above me, shaking from head to toe like at any moment he’ll come, and he feels so good that once more I start to think if he ever left me I would just die. Like I can’t live without him. Like he’s the oxygen I need to breathe. Baby needs his Daddy. Daddy loves Baby, so much, would never hurt him, will always take care of him, and if Daddy ever leaves Baby, he’ll be so-so sad. He starts to move just a little faster, his breath short, like he’s gasping for air.

“Fuck, I wanna come so bad,” he moans. “Can I come for ya, Baby?” he asks. “Huh? You gonna let Daddy come? Please oh please let Daddy come.” I whimper a little, but I nod my head, because right now all I want is for him to feel good. I want to please Daddy, I want to make him happy. Baby wants Daddy to come, so I nod and continue sucking my thumb, but I feel his hand come up and slowly pull it from my mouth. I almost start to pout but then I hear, “Daddy wants to hear you say it, Baby.”

I bite my lip a little. “Come for me, Daddy,” I whimper in my Baby voice.

“Oh f-fuck,” I hear him stutter, then feel him throb, pushed over the edge and spilling into the condom. My words made him come. But the good feeling only lasts another minute before he’s pulling away. Daddy’s leaving me again. Suddenly I’m not thinking rationally at all anymore and my only thought is how badly I want him to stay. I don’t want him to go. I feel him pull out and I let out a sob. I reach behind me to try to pull him back, but he slips through my grabbing fingers.

“No,” I pout, feeling so cold and empty without him inside me, squirming in my spot on the bed. “No, no, don’t go!”

“Hush, Baby,” I hear, murmured softly. “Don’t you worry, Daddy’s not leavin’. He’s just gonna make you come too.”

He rolls me over onto my back, then pushes my legs up. I feel his fingers reach inside me and I let out a blissful little sigh. It’s not enough though, and I want more, I want him inside me, but he curls his fingers until they hit my prostate and I look down to see his head dip, watch him take me into his mouth. Fuck he feels so good! Daddy knows just how to please his Baby, and I whimper, “That feels good, Daddy,” making him hum around my throbbing erection, bringing me that much closer.

Absently my thumb goes back in my mouth while my other hand reaches for his head to grip his hair and push him down, moving him how I want. He moves at my every gesture, just how I want. Whatever I want, however I want, Daddy does it, until I’m trembling and every muscle in my body is tight with built up tension. I’m short of breath, heart pounding loudly in my ears like a drum. His fingers dig into me one last time and find just the perfect rhythm deep inside me. 

I bite my thumb. I feel it now, and I know I’m gonna come, so I pull it most of the way out of my mouth to whimper, “Gonna come, Daddy,” So he pulls back, mouth popping off and replaced by his hand instead, and he watches as I spill onto my stomach. He watches it, then watches my face, as my eyes roll back and my mouth is slack, head falling back against the pillow. He waits until I’m completely finished and no longer pumping out cum before he pulls away. 

I don’t want him to go. Mindlessly I reach for him, scrunching and making grabby fingers with my hand while he fetches Kleenex to wipe away my cum. “Daddy,” I whimper.

“Shh, it’s alright, Baby.” 

I hear him responding, and I see him still, but while I feel him touching me, he’s not inside me anymore and he’s not holding me. I just want him to hold me. “Hold me, Daddy,” I say, pouting, then seconds later I feel him settle on top of me, arms around me. He pulls my thumb from my mouth so he can replace it with his tongue and I like that very much, so I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back. I suck on his tongue a little, making him groan. He likes it. He feels so good.

I never want to be with anyone else, for the rest of my life.

*

I don’t know how long it’s been, but eventually I come to my senses and start to feel like me again. I let out a deep sigh as I feel Brody’s arms wrapped tightly around me. “Holy shit,” I curse, because that was fucking incredible. “Brody that was amazing,” I sigh.

“I know right?” I hear him chuckle. “I mean goddamn. That was…fuck, that was incredible.” My thoughts exactly. He kisses and bites my ear. “I think I gotta new name for you,” he mumbles, and I glance up at him.

“Oh? What’s that?”

He smirks. “My little Crybaby.”

Roll credits, am I right?

I chuckle at him, face burning and I cover it with my hands because I’m blushing, and feel all warm and fuzzy all over. The way he’s saying it doesn’t sound like an insult of any kind, or demeaning in anyway whatsoever. No, it sounds like a pet name actually, like he’s calling me his ‘cutie pie’ or something. “I’m guessing this has nothing to do with the Johnny Depp movie and has everything to do with me whining, crying, and pouting during sex?” I laugh and so does he.

“It’s kinda both actually. I mean you mentioned it last night and I got to thinkin’ about it, and…I dunno, it just fits. My sweet little Crybaby.” He kisses the side of my head. “Daddy’s precious little angel, that gets whatever he wants, because he knows Daddy don’t like to see him upset.” Aww. That’s insanely sweet and it just makes me hug him tighter, humming a little, then pecking him on the cheek. “You like it?” he asks me. “Wanna be my little Crybaby?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Crybaby. I like it. I think I could get used to it.” I peck him on the nose with a kiss. “Daddy,” I add, and he gives me a lopsided grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	20. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I’m in heaven right now. That’s what this is. _
> 
> _Unequivocal perfection._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was no update on Monday. I've scaled updates back to once a week so Crybaby will be updated only on Thursdays now. 
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Hanging By A Moment"–Lifehouse](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=NPgN0j6fm0w&feature=share)

BRODY-

I’m in heaven right now. That’s what this is. 

Unequivocal perfection.

Complete and utter fuckin’ bliss, I’m tellin’ ya. Ashton and I eventually get up, sit down at the kitchen table to finally eat breakfast after reheatin’ it in the microwave, but we both decide eggs are much better when they’re fresh off the skillet, both laughing when we come to that conclusion. Then we chill out in the living room, cuddling on the couch and watchin’ tv. He pulls up Netflix and logs into his account, then we snuggle up and watch Voltron while we’re talking.

I’m layin’ down, he’s layin’ on my chest, and we talk about everything that happened. When we’re not havin’ sex he’s still self conscious about his quirks, things like suckin’ his thumb, but at least he’s not so nervous about talkin’ about sex, all the things he likes and his past experiences. He’s been scared of tellin’ me about that shit because he didn’t wanna freak me out, and he’s just as surprised as I am to find out we both like that kind of thing. That I’m just what he’s been missin’ in a man.

He tells me that any guys he’s been with in the past that let him call ‘em Daddy were all assholes about that shit. They were all sadists, and Ashton don’t really get any kind of pleasure from pain, so he’s not really into that kind of thing. Don’t get me wrong, if you’re into that kind of shit, fine by me, but I don’t really like it either. I tell him I might tie him up and tickle him though, makin’ him laugh. “Oh god please don’t tickle me,” he says, gasping for air. “I don’t think I could take it.”

“You’re ticklish, huh?” I poke his side a little and he squirms, giggling. Then finally he pins my hand down, and I pretend like he could actually stop me. But if I really wanted to, he couldn’t. I’m too strong.

“Very,” he says, grinning. “Like, I’m _insanely_ ticklish. I don’t think I could handle it. But would you ever want to tie me up just to maybe spank me a little? But not hard though. If it’s too hard it’s a turn-off.”

“I can if you want,” I shrug. “I don’t really like the whole discipline type shit though? Maybe I could put you in time-out, but that’s about all I could really handle.”

“Aww,” he chuckles. “You just want to spoil me, huh?”

“Kinda yeah,” I say and he grins at me.

“I would definitely not mind in the slightest being your spoiled little Crybaby.”

I chuckle a little and wrap my arms tighter around him. We talk about a lot of other things too, and I mention my suspicion that when he gets clingy like he does he might be regressing. He agrees with me. He says that’s kinda what it feels like. Like he just don’t wanna be grown up anymore. He don’t wanna go to work, don’t wanna pay bills, nothin’. Just be little again. Just wants curl up under the blankets with me, hold me and never let me go. He’s not sure what triggers it though. 

He’s never done it before, not with anyone. Just with me, which tells me the circumstances have to be just right for it to happen. He feels weird about it still, like there’s somethin’ wrong with him, which is frustrating. “I mean it’s not normal, Brody,” he sighs. “I’m twenty-eight, not four. I mean if we’re just play acting, you know, like role playing or something, that’s one thing, but for me to actually _be_ a toddler is entirely different. I’m not so sure that type of behavior is all that healthy either.”

“Well, it’s not that uncommon,” I tell him, shrugging. “A lot of people do that shit actually.”

“Yeah right,” he grouses, like he don’t believe me.

“Fine, you don’t believe me? Look it up then,” I chuckle. So he does. He looks so fuckin’ shocked to find out how many people regress like that, some younger than others. But I think what surprises him the most is that I’m okay with it. That it don’t bother me in the slightest. I think it’s cute when he’s like that, all clingy like a baby, and my instincts are to care for him when he’s like that. But I’m still wrackin’ my brain tryna think of how I can keep him from freakin’ out too bad like he did last night. 

When he thought I was abandoning him. But I think I figured out what triggers it though. So far, it happens every time I pull out, and I don’t think he likes that too much. Even if I’m right there next to him, in his mind, if I’m not inside of him, that’s when he feels abandoned. I think it’s all psychological. Not like somethin’ seriously traumatic happened to him? But just because every other man he’s been with freaked out on him and left him because he cries durin’ sex, thus the abandonment issues.

Shit, when I think about it, that would be traumatic enough for anyone.

I dunno what to do about it though. Just keep doin’ what I did last night I guess. Just keep holdin’ him until he don’t feel like I’m gonna leave him. Be there for him any way I can be. Keep provin’ to him that I’m not goin’ anywhere, until I get it through to his head. But we talk about a lot of other things while we’re layin’ on the couch before he’s starts squirming on top of me, sayin’, “All this talk about sex is kind of turning me on.” I groan a little, shifting around, feelin’ the same.

Not long after he ends up slithering down ‘til his face is near my junk and he’s givin’ me a blow job. He gets me off, and I pull him into my arms, kissin’ him like crazy while I jerk him off ‘til he comes. We’re both sweatin’ and fuckin’ exhausted when it’s over and I can’t even bring myself to get up and get somethin’ to clean us up, so we use his shirt to wipe us off and I lay him back down in my arms, where he passes out. Slowly and gently I reach to put his thumb in his mouth and he latches onto it.

One of these days I’ll get him over feelin’ self conscious about that shit.

One of these days.

*

When we finally wake up from our nap, Ashton checks his phone to see a string of texts from his sister, beggin’ him to go out with her tonight because she’s alone and wants some company. I check my phone to see a bunch of missed calls from Del, and a text message askin’ me where the fuck I’m at. I call him back and he asks me if I wanna go out to Riders tonight, so me and Ashton make our plans. I’m amazed at how it only takes like five seconds for him to dress to go out.

I’m still buttoning my shirt back up when he comes out wearing blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and he’s carryin’ his black and white converse into the living room to sit down on the couch and lace them up. Like, damn, he’s quick! He ain’t one of them guys that takes forty-five minutes pickin’ out clothes and fixin’ his hair and shit. He laughs when I say, “You know I think between the two of us, I’m the more prissy one,” Because I am. It takes me _forever_ to get ready ‘cause I’m kind of a perfectionist.

It takes _effort_ to look this good. But with him it takes absolutely no effort whatsoever. He’s just naturally fuckin’ cute. I’m already missin’ him terribly when I get out to my car, then swing by my place to shower and dress in some fresh clothes, then wait for Del to pick me up in his truck. I just want to be around Ashton all the time. But this ain’t gonna be one of those types of relationships where we give up who we are and what we like to do to spend all our time together. 

I won’t let Ashton neglect his friends and family just to spend all his time with me, and he’s not gonna expect me to stop hangin’ out with Del and everybody either. We’re gonna be who we are, whether we’re together or not, and no more makin’ sacrifices. We’ve both made too many already. Too many times we’ve had to change things about ourselves, hide things from people, and sacrifice what we want for the sake of others just to make them happy, and neglect ourselves.

I’m not doin’ that anymore. But I’m still thinkin’ about every second spent with Ashton when Del pulls up in his truck and I climb in the passenger’s seat.

“Where the fuck you been all day?” he asks me, and I chuckle.

“Sorry,” I say. “I spent the night with Ashton. We went out to dinner and shit, then we went back to his place. I was passed out whenever you called. He fuckin’ wore me out.”

“So that shit’s workin’ out for ya still, huh?” he smirks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah it’s workin’ out good.”

“Well, why didn’t ya bring him with us? He ain’t gotta make himself scarce or nothin’. Ain’t nobody gonna say nothin’ if they see him. You coulda brought him.”

“Nah,” I shake my head. “It ain’t like that. He’s just got plans with his sister tonight.”

“Ah, okay then,” Del nods. I think about what he said about nobody sayin’ nothin’ if they see me and Ashton showin’ up at some place like Riders together. I know Del wouldn’t, other than maybe crack a few jokes or make some smart remarks here and there just ‘cause he’s an ass like that, but I don’t know about everybody else. Sandy likes him, thinks he’s a ‘real sweetheart’, she said. Pam says she wants to meet him. Everybody else just kinda acts like he don’t exist though. 

I’m alright with that, but I don’t know how they would be if they were around him, and I don’t want them makin’ Ashton uncomfortable. I’m kind of leery about meetin’ his family too. Stephanie’s the only one that knows I’ve been locked up, but that’s only because the night we met, he told her everything that happened afterwards in the car ride home. But his parents don’t know that about me, and he doesn’t want them to know, because he doesn’t want them judging me for that shit.

Del’s quiet beside me for a while in the truck before out of nowhere he asks, “Ashton’s sister…that’s the one that picked him up from Riders, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“She single?”

“Del.”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up.”

“What? I’m just askin’.”

“_No_,” I emphasize.

“No as in she ain’t single?”

“No as in I’m _not_ settin’ you up with my boyfriend’s sister.”

“Oh come on, man,” he whines.

“Not doin’ it, Del.” He whines and pouts the whole rest of the way to Riders. I’m tempted to though. Steph sounds like a good girl, and God knows Del has had too many bad ones already, and maybe a good girl to settle down with is what he really needs right now, but I ain’t gettin’ Ashton’s sister involved with him, and then when things don’t work out, makin’ shit weird between me and Ashton because his sister and my best friend are exes. I don’t think Steph would like him much anyway.

I have a beer when we first arrive, but I really don’t feel like havin’ a second, so I opt to be designated driver tonight and watch Del slowly get trashed in the booth across from me, whinin’ about his bad luck with women. I’ll tell you what his problem is. He moves too fast. I mean I know Ashton and I have only been datin’ for like a week and I’m already fallin’ for him, but it’s not like I _told_ him I love him. Del on the other hand, he spends one night with a woman and he’s ready to tie the knot.

He’s been engaged like five times already, but the relationships never last longer than a month maybe before everything just falls to shit, because he always falls for the wrong kind of woman. He’s been cheated on, dumped for other men, and sometimes even physically abused too, so many times it ain’t funny. He’ll let a woman just walk all over him, get away with anything and everything, because he’s just too forgivin’, and don’t wanna lose ‘em. He’s more of a mess than I was before Ashton.

Considerin’ the fact that I have no idea how to make a relationship work long term and I’m kind of flyin’ by the seat of my pants with my current one, I’m absolutely no help whatsoever, other than tryin’ to get him to understand that movin’ too fast will only work to scare a woman away. But I’ll say one thing about him, he’s committed, that’s for sure. He’s never cheated on a woman in his life, and he would never put his hands on one either. He don’t like that kinda shit any more than I do.

He gets up to play pool and Ashton texts me.

_‘There’s just something about watching a grown woman cry while eating an entire carton of ice cream that makes me feel extremely inadequate.’_

I snort at that. _‘Thought you guys were gonna see a movie,’_ I text him.

_‘We did, but it was a romantic comedy and halfway through she started crying, saying why can’t I find a guy like that and we had to leave the theatre.’_

Damn. I feel bad for his sister. She sounds just as hopeless as Del when he’s drunk. _‘She gonna be ok?’_ I text.

_‘Yeah, but at the rate she’s going, she’ll gain like fifty pounds by the end of the week.’_

I don’t know why but that just kind of makes me chuckle a little. Poor girl. My eyes flit back and forth between my phone screen and Del nearby, shufflin’ around the pool table and I get to thinkin’.

_Nah_, I tell myself. It would never work. But I text Ashton back with,_ ‘Yours is gettin’ fat, mine is gettin’ drunk. What the fuck are we gonna do with them?’_

He sends me back a string of little laughin’ faces, and I send him a smilin’ one before I shove my phone in my pocket and head over to the pool table.

I don’t know what Ashton’s gonna do about his miserable sister, but I know at this rate, not only am I drivin’ Del home tonight, but I’m probably gonna have to hold his head up over the toilet too. Yeah, he’s trashed. You know how I can tell? Because when he sidles up to me, that pool stick he’s leanin’ against is the _only_ thing holdin’ him up, and he says to me, “Alright, I _gotta_ know. It’s been eatin’ me up and I can’t stand not knowin’ this shit. So go on and tell me, Bro, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Ashhhton,” he slurs. “What’s it like bein’ with him? Like is it any good? Does he only do shit like just go down on ya, or like do y’all actually fuck?”

Oh dear god he ain’t just drunk, he’s _shitfaced_.

I glance around. Nobody can hear us and ain’t nobody even payin’ attention but goddamn.

“Time to take you home,” I sigh at him.

“No but really what’s he like?”

“Del, just shut up.”

“Oh just tell me,” he whines.

“Fine. He’s _perfect_, that’s what he is,” is all I’ll say about it. “Just perfect for me, Del.”

He grins like an idiot, then throws his arm over my shoulder. “That’s fuckin’ awesome,” he slurs at me, squeezin’, then shakin’ my shoulder. “My best friend is happy, and I’m happy he’s happy. Ya know I love ya man.”

“Yeah I know,” I sigh, rollin’ my eyes at him. “Love ya too. Let’s get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	21. Consolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Okay,” I chirp brightly. “No more rom-coms for Stephanie. No, wait, I take that back. No more romantic things of any kind.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie's Song: ["I'm A Mess"–Bebe Rexha](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=GhL8GUjXEfk&feature=share)

ASH-

“Okay,” I chirp brightly. “No more rom-coms for Stephanie. No, wait, I take that back. No more romantic things of any kind.”

Stephanie’s sobs only increase after I say that, and she stuffs another spoonful of Rocky Road in her mouth. Dear God, what have I done to deserve this? I heave a sigh. She’s next to me on the couch in my apartment, cross-legged, sobbing, one hand holding a spoon, the other a Kleenex, as I continuously rub her back. I don’t know what to say really. It was pure luck that I found Brody, so I don’t have any tips, tricks, or candid advice on how to catch a great guy that’s perfect for Stephanie.

But I know what kind of guy she needs. She needs a guy that won’t cheat on her, abuse her, or treat her like a whore and then abandon her when he’s no longer interested. Mom is convinced her problem is that she acts like a whore, therefore guys think they have permission to treat her like one. Me I think Stephanie just needs to spend more time getting to know a guy before things get serious. Dad, of course, just impresses upon her to make sure to use a condom and birth control.

I wonder what advice Brody would have for her? I have been dying to talk about Brody since last night and this morning happened, tell her the good news, that I think I’ve finally found the one, but I don’t want to make her even more miserable by flaunting my happy relationship when she’s hopeless and single still. So I keep my mouth shut about Brody and just try to keep her calm. “Would you feel better if we watched some cartoons?” I ask, mostly because I want to watch cartoons, but also yeah.

“If you want to binge watch something, all you have to do is say so, Bear,” she sniffles with a frown. “Don’t let me stop you.” I turn on my tv, log into Netflix, and start watching The Amazing World of Gumball while we huddle on the couch. “I just don’t understand why every guy I’m with just treats me like some dirty slut!” Stephanie exclaims. “Why can’t I find a nice guy like you found Brody?” She sniffs. “You think maybe he’s got a brother somewhere?”

“If he does, he’s never tried to contact him,” I say apologetically. No, the only brother Brody has is Del, sadly, and I highly doubt Del is equipped to handle a long term relationship. Plus he’s kind of an ass, and he looks like the kind of guy who’s name you would see on a registered sex offender list. Not the kind of guy that should ever procreate, let alone the kind that Stephanie should fall in love with. “Well, if it’s any consolation, at least you didn’t get pregnant and end up a single mother,” I say.

Somehow that just makes it worse because she’s like, “Well, if I had a baby then at least I’d have somebody that loved me!” Then she sobs again. “Oh but then they’d just grow up and leave me too!” Now she’s back to crying even harder than before. Shit! What am I going to do? Usually when she’s like this I’m crying right along with her until we both just pass out from exhaustion. But now I’m the happy sibling, and instead of being baby brother, I have to somehow try to be big brother here.

“Look, Steph,” I say, nudging her a little, “You know how hopeless and pathetic I was, but look at me now. I managed to find a great guy like Brody, who makes me really happy, so you know what that means? It means that if somebody as hopeless as me can be lucky enough to find someone, that means you will too some day. You just can’t give up hope, sis, you can’t. If you give up now, then you’ll never find a guy.” Steph wipes her eyes with her Kleenex and glares at me.

Her eyeliner is smearing like crazy and her 24 hour foundation is almost all gone now, which means I can see her matching Kingston freckles. It super tragic how much of a wreck she is right now.

“That’s easy for you to say because you’re happy now,” she huffs.

“Yeah but when I was miserable, that’s what you kept saying to me, isn’t it? That I shouldn’t give up? Now look at me. So now you know your pep talks actually work.”

“Yeah but you found yours because you were almost beat to death by some assholes and Brody just so happened to be there to save you. What am I supposed to do? Allow myself to be sexually assaulted and hope and pray some saintly guy comes along to rescue me?”

“Well, no, because that would be stupid. All I’m saying is the guy for you is out there somewhere, and you know he’s probably miserable too? Because he doesn’t have a girl like you in his life? Like, he’s probably out there right now, at a bar somewhere getting trashed because none of his relationships ever seem to work out, and he’s just been waiting for a girl like you to walk through the door. You’re the one thing he’s been missing in his life, and he can’t possibly be happy without you.”

“Fine, then we’ll break mom’s rule, you can take my car, drive me to this crummy bar, and point him out to me.”

“I was speaking figuratively, Steph.”

“I knew that,” she mumbles. “Maybe that’s why I’m miserable though. Because I’m following mom’s stupid no bar advice. You know just because she found her soulmate in a department store, doesn’t mean I’m going to find mine in a grocery isle, and you found your boyfriend in a bar.” She dabs her eyes again. “I’m being a horrible big sister. I’m supposed to be the supportive one. You never even got to tell me how your date with Brody went last night, and I need a change of subject. So how’d it go?”

“No, Steph, we don’t have to discuss–”

“Yes we do, Baby Bear. You’re my best friend, and you should be telling me all about your spectacular date.”

I sigh. “It was…it was great,” I say. “I mean he did almost stab some guy, but,” Stephanie’s puffy blue eyes blink wide open at that, “Some homophobic asshole was sitting at the table next to ours and had to make comments about us being together,” I explain. “But other than that it was really great. The food too, oh my god, Steph you really need to try it. CJ’s is fucking fantastic. But yeah, it was–it was just really great, and…well, then I invited him back here afterwards…and he spent the night.”

“He stayed the whole night?” she asks and I nod. “But did you guys…?”

“Yeah, we uh…we had sex, yeah.”

“Did he freak out?”

I smile. “No, actually, he didn’t. Matter of fact he…he liked it.”

“He likes that you cry during sex?” she asks, scrunching her face in bewilderment. “What is he, like, a sadist or something?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Nothing like that at all. He just…he just finds it attractive. Like, he likes making me feel good, and if I’m crying because it feels good, then he’s okay with it. He didn’t make me feel like a freak at all.” I fidget a little excitedly, picking at my nails, and blushing, wanting so badly to say it, and finally I just can’t keep it to myself anymore, so I add, “He’s a Daddy.” Stephanie’s eyes are huge when I say that, her hands fly to her mouth, and I grin.

“Oh my god are serious?” she gasps and I nod.

“Yup,” I say proudly. 

“But he’s not a Dom or anything like that?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Stephanie squeals. 

“Oh Baby Bear I’m so happy for you!” she shrieks, throwing her arms around me and squeezing me tight. I roll my eyes. 

“No seriously I am, like, this is incredible!” She pulls away. “Maybe you’re right, you know, about all that stuff you said about there being hope for my perfect guy too? Like, maybe he really is out there, because you finally found yours!” She sits up straight and runs fingers through her hair. “Oh but he’s not going to find me attractive if he’s sees I’m a total mess like this,” she adds, almost to herself. Well, looks like Stephanie is back in the proverbial saddle. 

I watch her take a deep breath to center herself, then clear her throat while she reaches for her purse. “You know, I think I’m going to clean myself up and go out somewhere tonight. Maybe Stacie’s free to chill? She and Brent just broke up so she’s probably looking for some rebound, and whoever the guy, he’s bound to have a friend or two.” She pulls out her little black compact mirror. She gasps when she sees her reflection in the mirror and exclaims, “Oh my fucking god!”

I watch with a smirk as Stephanie pulls out her emergency make-up and puts herself back together before my eyes, running a brush through her strawberry blonde hair, starting to bleed of color and turn back into reddish brown, because she missed her last hair appointment. Time to head back to the salon soon. Once she’s back to looking ready to party, she smiles at me and asks, “You want to go with me? Or do you plan on sexting Brody all night?” That makes me snort.

“Brody’s kind of busy right now.”

“Too busy to send his Baby dirty texts?” She juts out her bottom lip and mocks a Baby voice, saying, “Bad Daddy, ignoring his precious Baby Boy like that.” I chuckle at that. “So mean.”

“No, he’s just got plans with some of his friends tonight.”

“Oh?” she chirps, curious. “Hey do you think Brody could set me up with someone?”

Yikes! “Uh,” I scratch my head. “Uhm, I’m not sure Brody’s friends are really your speed, Steph,” I say, wincing in apology. 

“But you said they weren’t that bad,” she shrugs. “That one friend of his was kind of cute too. What did you say his name was?”

“Okay, when I said they’re not that bad, what I really meant was they’re less likely to string me up for being gay than I initially thought,” I explain. “I mean they’re all ex cons like him, and while Brody _is…mostly_ rehabilitated, I’m not so sure the rest are too, Steph…and his name is Del.” I blow out a gust of air, ruffling my bangs. “Del is…” I trail off in thought. Then I shrug. “Actually you know I’m not entirely sure what Del is, other than a complete jack ass? So I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

Stephanie snorts at me. “Well, I think he’s a _cute_ jack ass,” she smirks at me, waggling her brows.

*

Poor Stephanie doesn’t find anyone to hook up with Saturday night, despite her can do attitude, so she ends up making an emergency stop at Walgreen’s instead for hair therapy, picks up a box of auburn hair dye, and shoots me a text asking if I’ll help her with her hair. She hasn’t lost hope yet though, she tells me, so instead of having a complete meltdown, she just changes up her look, dusts up her appearance to boost her confidence a bit, and turn up the dial on the sex appeal.

She does look pretty great as a redhead. We both naturally have that auburn color, and with Steph it really brings out her skin tone, and her eyes, much more than blonde ever did. But Sunday afternoon we run into a different breed of problem that has nothing to do with men, or lack thereof. Her car starts making a knocking sound and she’s not really sure of the cause. But instead of going to the garage Dad normally takes her car to, she makes the suggestion that we pay Brody a visit.

I think she just wants to check out my boyfriend, and who could blame her honestly, because he’s gorgeous. But I call Brody to ask if it’s okay if we stop by, and he tells me I never need an invitation. Just hearing his silky voice makes me feel warm and fuzzy again, and when I hang up the call I know my face is probably red as a cherry right now because I feel it burning. I direct Stephanie to Brody’s house outside of town and we nearly break down twice. I think her car’s on it’s last leg.

When we finally pull onto the gravel driveway, the car starts rumbling and knocking again like it’s about to die, and I see Brody dart out of the garage shouting. 

“Whoa, whoa! Stop the car! Stop the car!” Stephanie slams on the brakes. “Shut it off,” he says. She shifts into park, kills the engine, and we start to get out. “Hold on, baby doll, press the button for the hood first,” he says. She reaches down into the floorboard and hits the switch, popping the hood open and Brody lifts it as we get out, barking, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Not at us though. The engine is scalding hot, like the radiator is overheated, though I’m quite sure there’s antifreeze in it.

He props the hood up and asks her, “When was the last time you had an oil change?”

“I…honestly don’t know,” she says, eyes wide, and almost fearful, like she thinks Brody’s mad at her or something. “Dad usually checks that stuff for me? Or he just like takes it to Main Street Auto for like maintenance or whatever, and that was like…I dunno, a couple months ago?”

“There’s one of your problems right there,” he says. “For one, those dickheads over on Main Street don’t know the first thing about runnin’ a garage, hired all them new guys, bunch of dumb fuckin’ rednecks that don’t know shit about cars.” He reaches into his back pocket for a rag and uses it to keep from burning himself as he untwists the oil cap and checks the oil level. “Probably forgot to change the filter, or just stuck the old one back on after they drained it.” 

He holds up the dipstick to show it’s covered in thick blackened sludge. “Yeah that’s what I thought,” he says.

“Ew,” Stephanie grimaces when she sees it. I notice it’s almost empty too. I think we were lucky to make it here actually.

“You’re lucky that shit didn’t blow up on you.” 

Her eyes get huge.

“He doesn’t mean a literal explosion, Steph, just meant it would break down.” I glance at Brody. “Right? Like you don’t actually mean,” He shakes his head, “Oh thank god.” He snorts at that.

“Nah, but I think you blew a head gasket, and if you keep drivin’ it like this, then the engine will lock up, and you’d have to replace the entire engine block,” he adds. “That’s a lot of time and money to fix, baby girl.” Steph winces a little, almost apologetically. He chuckles. “You’ll be fine. Just needs a new one, and maybe don’t take it to Main Street anymore. Just lemme call Del over here, then we’ll see if we can’t get this thing in the garage, let it cool down, and I’ll get you fixed up.”

“Thank you,” Steph tells him. “Thank you so much.”

Brody’s attention shifts to me and he says, “Now as for the payment…” His eyes roam over me. “I’ll take that up with you.” He winks at me, and I’m back to blushing again.

*

Payment ends up being a hug and a kiss, followed by a half an hour of leaning back against Brody with his arms around me while we hang out in the garage, my sister and boyfriend doing most of the talking, getting to know each other. We threw the car in neutral, then while Stephanie steered, we pushed the car into the garage in the empty stall next to the Shelby, parked it, and have been waiting for it to cool down, and for Del to arrive with the new parts for her car.

Finally, Del pulls into the driveway in his pick-up truck. He steps out looking kind of hungover, wearing dark sunglasses and puffing on a cigarette. He plucks a box from the passenger’s seat of his truck and ambles up the driveway. He looks like he’s on his last leg as he’s walking up, squinting like the sun’s still too bright, even with his sunglasses on. Poor guy has definitely seen better days. Brody told me how trashed he got last night, but the second he sees Stephanie, he perks up suddenly.

I think he only has that one outfit, because he’s wearing almost the exact same thing he had on the night we met, only instead of a t-shirt under his dad’s denim vest, he’s got on a tight muscle shirt, but I swear those look like the same pair of jeans, definitely the same scuffed up leather boots. But you know, I can kind of see why Steph would sleep with him. Like Brody he’s tall and muscular, though he doesn’t have nearly as many tattoos, nor is he so fond of black as a fashion statement.

But if I didn’t know a damned thing about him? Yeah I’d fuck him. “Well I’ll be damned, look who it is,” he grins at Steph who twirls her hair a little, then bites her lip. He slowly peels his sunglasses from his face and looks her up and down. “You know I always did say there’s only one thing better than a hot blonde, and that’s a hot redhead. Stephanie, right?” she nods. “How ya been, darlin’?”

She gets a little bashful, then blushes and stammers, “I’ve been good. You?”

“Real good now,” he says, totally eye-fucking her without even so much as a thought to mine or Brody’s existence. Like, he could care less that Brody and I are standing right here, five feet away, or that Brody’s got his arms around me. He’s only got eyes for Stephanie. She doesn’t look like she minds either. Eventually Brody gets his attention though, and has to let go of me so he and Del can start working on Stephanie’s car. But Del shamelessly flirts with her the whole time.

I catch Brody rolling his eyes at him a few times and it makes me snicker.

But then I get to thinking.

Could it…?

No. No way.

No, it could never work between those two…right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	22. Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _‘Goddamn it, Del,’ I think, and just as I’m reachin’ for my phone to text this dumbass to warn him they’ve got company, I hear, “SON OF A BITCH!” Followed by the sound of a woman screamin’ at the top of her lungs in surprise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept picturing a scene in my head of Del streaking out of a house in nothing but his underwear and skimming across the hood of Brody’s car Dukes of Hazard style to the song Original Prankster, so…here you go.
> 
> Chapter Song: ["Original Prankster"–The Offspring](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=NvI5B_6umN8&feature=share)

BRODY–

I wake up the following Saturday mornin’ to the sound of my phone ringing off the hook.

I roll over in bed and snatch my phone off the nightstand, but don’t answer it in time. I see the missed call is from Del. He also sent me a text asking if I can pick him up, so I flop down on my back with a frustrated sigh and call him back. “Yo,” I say when he picks up the phone, and faintly I hear the sounds of a female giggling in the background as Del says, “Hey man, sorry for botherin’ you so early. You mind pickin’ me up? I went home with somebody last night, an’ I left my truck at Rider’s.”

“Sounds like it,” I mumble, as once more the girl in the background is giggling, and I hear Del saying to her, “Stop it,” with a breathy chuckle, making me roll my eyes. I’d throw up, but I haven’t had breakfast yet. “Yeah I can pick you up,” I sigh. “Just text me the address.”

“Thanks man,” he tells me, then we hang up.

I know that regardless of the circumstances, Del would pick me up in a heartbeat if I ever needed a ride, no questions asked, because that’s what friends do. Otherwise, I would not be draggin’ my ass outta bed this early on a Saturday. But I do it for Del. So I get up, find a clean muscle shirt to throw on, and my good jeans, then search for my belt, wallet, and lastly my boots by the couch where I took them off last night. Lift my keys from the hook, then I’m out the door.

It’s a nice, sunny day today. Blue skies, not a cloud in sight either. Traffic’s pretty light too, but the address Del sent me is clear on the other side of town, and I’m down to a quarter tank in gas, so I gotta stop at a gas station to fill up on my way over. It’s kinda far outside city limits, in the sticks, so I’m not too surprised when the scenery starts to change from gentrified neighborhoods to farmhouses, the closer I get to where I’m goin’. Almost get lost and have to backtrack.

The house ends up bein’ a trailer, surrounded by junked cars that break my heart to see, all rusted and neglected like that, left to the elements. I hear a dog barkin’, but otherwise it’s quiet, the house completely surrounded by woods. A Honda Civic with pink fuzzy dice hangin’ on the rear view mirror is parked in the driveway though. Must belong to Del’s latest find. I park behind it and shut the engine off, then I wait for a while, knowing there’s no way Del didn’t hear me pull in.

But it hasn’t been ten minutes that I’m sittin’ there when another vehicle pulls in. The type that looks like it belongs to a setting like this. A jacked up Chevy Silverado with a rusty fender comes screamin’ up the driveway and pulls in next to my Cougar. A guy steps out of it, lookin’ kinda on the young side. At a guess, I’d say maybe twenty-five, and I smell trouble as soon as I see ‘em. He slams the truck door, then steps around it to look me up and down, narrowin’ his eyes suspiciously.

Fuckin’ redneck lookin’ motherfucker with a camo ball cap backwards on his head, a beer stained t-shirt, his ripped up jeans tucked inside his muddy boots, and this just _reeks_ of a bad plot twist.

Lookin’ at me like _I’m_ some kinda problem, when all I’m doin’ is sittin’ here, and I have a good idea of where this is headed. “Who the hell are you?” he drawls with a thick southern accent.

I shrug my shoulder a little. “Just waitin’ on a friend,” I say, then tap my fingers on the dash impatiently as he walks up to the porch, then opens the door and steps inside.

_Goddamn it, Del,_ I think, and just as I’m reachin’ for my phone to text this dumbass to warn him they’ve got company, I hear, “SON OF A BITCH!” Followed by the sound of a woman screamin’ at the top of her lungs in surprise. 

For those of you who haven’t figured out what’s goin’ on, I’d say that’s the girl’s husband that just came home, and he ain’t happy about findin’ Del in bed with his wife. Just at a guess. Next thing I know, Del comes streakin’ out of the house in nothin’ but his boxer briefs, carrying his clothes. I start the engine and unlock the doors when I see the chick’s redneck asshole husband stormin’ outside loadin’ a fuckin’ shotgun, and I swear to fuckin’ God if this motherfucker shoots my car–

“Goddamn, Del!” I curse out loud as he slides across the hood of my car Dukes of Hazard style to get to the passenger’s side. But since the window’s closed he has to fumble with the door handle. I shift into reverse. “Del if you don’t get in this car right the fuck now, I’m leavin’ you here!” My heart is poundin’ like crazy as I see out of the corner of my eye the barrel of that gun bein’ raised. Luckily, Del gets the door open and climbs in, then we peel out of the gravel driveway.

I hear a shot fired, but so far as I can tell, the idiot missed, but I’m still mad as hell, and once we turn onto the main road, I reach to punch Del as hard as I can in the arm. “You stupid motherfucker, you almost got me shot!” I bark at him.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he says, clutchin’ his arm, frequently glancing behind him, I guess to make sure we’re not being followed. “Fuck that hurt!” he whines.

“The hell are you doin’ fuckin’ around with a married woman, Del?!”

“Hell, I didn’t know she was married!” I shoot a very skeptical glare his way. “I swear, man! I didn’t know! Weren’t like she had a ring on or nothin’. How was I to know she already had an ol’ man?”

“An’ see this is exactly what I keep tellin’ you,” I say, slapping the steering wheel angrily. “Won’tchya stop pickin’ up women from that bar, an’ you won’t have that problem.”

“Hey now, that ain’t fair,” he huffs at me, shifting around in the seat in an attempt to shrug into his pants while the vehicle’s moving, change fallin’ out of his pockets. “Your ass found Ashton in a bar. Don’t ya think that’s just a little hypocritical of ya?” He jostles the seat as he shimmies into his pants. Point taken, I guess. “Fuck, I really thought Bethany coulda been the one,” he laments as he pulls his shirt on next. “I mean what we had really felt like somethin’ special, you know?”

I check the rear view mirror once more to see that thankfully the coast is clear and there’s no Chevy Silverado tailin’ us. 

“Yeah well obviously is wasn’t too fuckin’ special,” I say. Then I sigh at Del’s heartbroken expression. “One of these days your ass’ll find a good woman,” I assure, though I can’t say I could give him all that great of advice as to where to start lookin’. My ass is gay as hell. “May not be today or tomorrow, but she’s out there somewhere, Del. I promise. You just gotta quit throwin’ yourself at the first pair of tits that comes struttin’ up to ya in the meantime.”

“And you’re sayin’ what, that she’ll just randomly materialize in front of me one of these days like some kinda angel o’ destiny or some shit?” he grouses at me, shoving his feet into his boots. He painstakingly laces them up and with the way he’s bent forward in the seat, I’m so tempted to break check him right now for bein’ a smartass, but I resist the urge. When he’s finished dressing, he settles back in the seat and reaches in his pocket for his pack of smokes. “But speakin’ of angels…”

I narrow my eyes. “Del, don’t go there again,” I warn.

He pouts like a two year old. “Oh come on, Brody, just let me send her one text. Just one, that’s all.”

“Goddamn it Del for the last time I am _not_ givin’ you Stephanie’s phone number!” Del pouts some more. “I don’t even have it,” I lie. I do actually. We swapped contact info just in case her car ever needed servicing again. She told me she was gonna recommend me to a few of her friends too, if I didn’t mind. Which I don’t. I could always use the extra cash. “So where to?” I ask Del, taking the next left and turning onto the highway.

“I guess back to Riders,” he shrugs. “Need to get my truck…We can stop off at the gas station first, if ya want. I’ll top off your tank for ya.”

“Buy me breakfast too,” I request. “You woke me up for this shit, an’ I ain’t even ate yet. My ass is fuckin’ starvin’.”

“Alright then,” he nods, then puffs on his cigarette.

*

So we pull into the nearest gas station, and Del and I get out. He swipes his bank card in the machine at the pump and I hang outside to pump gas while he heads inside the store to get us some coffee and a couple of breakfast biscuits to eat on the way to the bar. I should have known today was gonna turn to complete shit, because just as Del’s exiting the store with our food, guess what ugly Chevy Silverado comes driving past the gas station and recognizes my car?

Yeah, _that_ ugly Chevy Silverado.

“God-fuckin’-dammit, Del,” I curse under my breath, then raise my voice to shout, “Hurry up man!”

Del spots the vehicle as he’s ambling over, curses, “Shit!” and picks up the pace, jogging over to the passenger’s side of my car. I’m already slamming my door shut and starting the engine. I’m peelin’ out of the parking lot just as the truck is turning around and heading back to the station. He spots me turning down a side street so he follows me. If I was able to let loose, I could probably lose him–his piece of shit pick-up couldn’t keep up with my Cougar–but we’re in town limits.

I can’t risk getting pulled over by the cops and getting a ticket on account of one pissed off redneck.

“Fuck!” Del curses from the passenger’s seat. “How the fuck we gon’ lose this asshole?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” I say, checking the rear view mirror every once in a while only to see that he’s still three car lengths behind us and steadily gaining on us. I can’t very well lead this asshole back to my place, or Del’s, and have him findin’ out where we live. I don’t want to lead him to Riders either, not if this asshole is just gonna stake out the place. But I can’t seem to lose him either. Every side street we turn onto, he’s right behind us. Looks like I have no choice.

“Fuck it,” I say, flippin’ on my turn signal and hangin’ the next right.

“Where ya goin’?” Del asks.

“Riders,” I answer with a sneer. “We’ll see how much his inbred ass enjoys the company of Pagans.”

What a stroke of luck that there’s a handful of bikes parked out front when we arrive. Halle-fuckin-lujah and a-fuckin-men! I can’t stand the Pagans–Axel would be the exception–but for once I’m actually _glad_ to see those Harleys lined up out front. It’s Saturday, which means they’ll be holdin’ their weekly club meeting soon and the bar will be closed to regulars, but I guess a few of them decided to show up early for the meeting. I park at the end, and Del and I get out.

The truck turns onto the street and slowly rolls by, but doesn’t turn into the parking lot. As I suspected. Too much of a chicken shit. Just keeps drivin’ past, and the asshole looks pissed. He glares at the both us, smiling right back and flippin’ him off. “Pussy,” I mumble, and beside me Del chuckles. The motherfucker’s too scared to pick a fight with us in front of a biker bar, because he knows the people inside don’t particularly care for his kind. He’d get no help from anybody inside.

“Damn,” Del sighs as we reach in the car and grab our coffee and breakfast. “That was a close one.” He shuts the car door. “For a second there I thought he might actually pull over an’ start some shit.”

“Nah. He’s dumb, but he ain’t stupid,” I say, closin’ the driver door and walkin’ around the car. “Ain’t gonna have no kind of problem with the Pagans…But you and I on the other hand are gonna have to sort some shit out.”

Del hangs his head at that, but nevertheless leads the way to the entrance, holds the door open for both of us, then follows me inside the bar. “Again, I’m sorry,” he tells me as we amble over to the nearest booth, pausing to wave at Sandy behind the counter. “If I’d known that shit was gonna happen, I never woulda went home with her.” We park our asses in the cushy leather seats and I open the lid of my coffee cup to add cream and sugar to it, Del opening his to do the same. 

“Was it worth it?” I ask him, and Del shoots me this cheeky grin.

“I mean kinda,” he says. “That bitch was fuckin’ flexible, just sayin’.”

I scrunch my face a little at the mental image he supplied.

To get even with him I shrug and say, “Hmm, so is Ashton,” and I waggle my brows suggestively, smirking. “Remarkably flexible.”

Now it’s Del’s turn to wince. “Thanks for the mental image I didn’t want,” he grumbles.

“Ditto.”

He sighs. “Eh, yeah, I guess I deserved that.”

“Yeah, ya kinda did,” I say. “You gotta promise me somethin’. I mean it Del, no more goin’ home with strange women from the bar.”

He frowns. “Alright,” he reluctantly agrees.

“And from now on, actually take the time to get to know a woman before you jump in bed with her.”

“Yessir.”

I nod at that, then resume doctoring up my coffee before taking a sip.

“So whatchya gettin’ into today?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I dunno yet. Was probably gonna go see Ash later. Maybe take ‘em out to the movies or somethin’.”

Del nods. “Sounds nice.”

I feel his eyes on me though, and I know precisely what he’s gonna say next. I look up just as he opens his mouth to make some smart remark. “Del?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles at me, then takes a bite of his sandwich, keeping whatever comments to himself.

Helluva mornin’, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	23. Shameless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I guess mom was right,” Stephanie sniffs. “I guess I really am just a dirty slut, and that’s all I’ll ever be worth to someone. Just a piece of ass.”_
> 
> _“Whoa whoa hold up,” Brody starts, pushing himself off the frame. “Nah, we ain’t havin’ that, baby girl. Ain’t gonna be no slut shamin’ in this house,” he says._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie’s Anthem: ["Cry Baby"–Demi Lovato](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=8G67czr5bEU&feature=share)
> 
> (Because she a soft baby too XD)

ASH–

Saturday afternoon with Brody feels like a dream. We went to the movies, and I found out that Brody and I have similar tastes in films, so I really enjoyed the flick he took us to see. We spent a whole hour afterwards talking about how much we enjoyed the movie, then went back to my place to hang out. Had some of the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, then snuggled up together for a snooze. It feels so unreal. Like, how could I be this lucky to have the perfect boyfriend?

But that evening we both jolt awake to the sound of someone pounding on my door. “Who the fuck is that?” Brody grumbles next to me.

I sigh. “I dunno. I’ll go check.”

“Wait, you’d better let me,” he says. I roll my eyes. Protective much? “Don’t look at me like that,” he adds. “I’m just sayin’ it could be some asshole tryna scam his way through the door.”

“I highly doubt it,” I chuckle, but Brody’s already getting up and shoving one leg then the other into his pants and buttoning them. I follow suit and get partially dressed, throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, then follow him into the living room, and watch him check the peephole first.

“It’s your sister,” he says, then opens the door for Stephanie. “Hey…Steph…” He trails off, smile fading, and we both stare in part shock, part concern because Stephanie looks like tee-total shit right now. She’s wearing baggy sweat pants and a hoodie, she doesn’t have a stitch of make-up on, hair in a messy ponytail and she’s obviously been crying. This is the worst I’ve ever seen her. “Damn girl, what happened to you?” Brody asks as she shuffles inside and he closes the door behind her.

“I tried to call,” she tells me. “But you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I’m so sorry, sis,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “Brody and I were just taking a nap, and…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I figured you were busy, but…I just…”

She bursts into tears again, so I hug her tighter. “It’s gonna be okay. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make us some coffee and you can tell me what happened.” I lead Stephanie to the kitchen, Brody trailing behind us, and I sit her down at the kitchenette, then turn to start a pot of coffee nearby. “So who is he, what did he do, and how badly do you want my boyfriend to hurt him?” I ask her, and she slumps in the chair. She props her head up with her hand, sulking.

“I certainly don’t mind gettin’ my hands dirty,” Brody adds, clearly ready to cave somebody’s head in for Stephanie if necessary.

“Thank you, but you don’t need to do that,” she says. Then she sighs. “I’m just…I’m just so sick of guys treating me like a whore!” she sobs, so I reach to pat her shoulder consolingly. 

Brody leans on the door frame and folds his arms over his chest. We both wait patiently for Steph to explain herself, but when she does, we’re both shocked. She steals a breath, then speaks in a nervous rush.

“So I went out to the bar last night, right? And I met this guy. Super cute, and he started coming on to me, so I’m like, ‘Cool, he’s into me’, and I’m into him too. So we kept flirting back and forth until finally he’s like, ‘Let’s maybe go somewhere’ and I’m like ‘Yeah, that sounds great’. So we go out to the parking lot and get in his car and everything’s going fine at first, but then he…” She chokes out another sob. “He tried to pay me for sex! He thought I was a prostitute!”

“Oh boy,” I mumble, as Steph erupts in another barrage of ugly sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks. I glance over to see that Brody is sporting a similar expression to mine. Neither one of us know what to say here. I mean, on the one hand, it’s super fucked up that this guy would assume something like that about her, but on the other, well…I mean if she just didn’t make it so goddamn easy for them! But she puts herself on display like a slutty department store mannequin.

But I can’t say that to Steph without her assuming that I’m just parroting mom’s conservative ideals about women and modesty. But with the way she leaves almost nothing to the imagination when she dresses up to go out, and is so ready to jump in bed with someone she literally just met, it’s kind of easy to assume those kinds of things about her. I look to Brody again. What do I do here? I say with my eyes, because no words of encouragement could help me here.

“I guess mom was right,” Stephanie sniffs. “I guess I really am just a slut, and that’s all I’ll ever be worth to someone. Just a piece of ass.”

“Whoa whoa hold up,” Brody starts, pushing himself off the frame. “Nah, we ain’t havin’ that, baby girl. Ain’t gonna be no slut shamin’ in this house,” he says. Then he moves to plop himself down in the seat across from Stephanie at the table, frowning. “What, just ‘cause you take home a different guy every night? That somehow makes you less deservin’ of bein’ happy than everybody else, or that you don’t deserve to be treated with some kind of respect? Fuck that.”

“Well yeah if you’re a guy,” Stephanie huffs. “It’s different for women.”

“Yeah well it shouldn’t be,” he argues. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ sex, or bein’ a sexual person, Steph. That doesn’t make you a piece of shit that don’t deserve to find happiness. Do you use protection?” he asks, and she nods. “You ever cheated on somebody?” She shakes her head and mumbles, “No.” “You ever slept wit a guy even though you knew his ass was already married?” Another shake of the head. “Final question: You ever put your hands on somebody?”

“No,” she says again, shaking her head adamantly. “And I would never do any of that to someone. I’m not like that.”

“Then really you ain’t even a slut then,” he shrugs. “”Cause them’s the kinda women that men don’t want around. That’s the kinda woman that’ll screw a guy over, and they don’t want that. That, to me, is a piece o’ shit waste of space. You on the other hand, you’re just ‘easy’, that’s all. And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. If you’re just lookin’ to have a good time with somebody, you do you, girl. But…If you’re lookin’ for Mr Right, you might wanna prioritize the sex a bit better, just sayin’.”

Stephanie huffs. “I’ve tried that, okay?”

“It’s true, she’s tried,” I add.

“I’ve tried going out with guys the old fashioned way. I’ve tried all the dating sites, everything, and I still end up with all these smarmy assholes that treat me like dirt!”

“Well,” he laces his fingers together on the table. “Then maybe it’s to do with the fact that you _dress_ like a prostitute,” he says.

Well thank God _somebody_ said it.

She rolls her eyes. “What, so now it’s a crime to want to show a little skin?” she asks. A little my ass. She shows _all_ the skin. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Besides, it makes me feel sexy. Guys pay attention to me when I dress like that.”

Brody snorts. 

“They’d pay attention to you regardless,” he says. “You shouldn’t need all that make-up to feel beautiful, Steph. You look just as good without it. And it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” He reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. “You are just as pretty in there too. Trust me, any guy with half a brain is gonna _know_ what you got underneath that jacket, Steph, and maybe if you start wearin’ one, he’ll start lookin’ you in the eye for a change, and notice how pretty they are too.”

Aww. Can this guy be any more of a dream right now? Where are all the straight guys with that kind of attitude? Because Stephanie desperately needs one. She sniffs and says, “You’re just…you’re just saying that to be nice.”

“I don’t lie,” he tells her, matter-of-fact. “And I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” She still looks unconvinced so he says, “Want me to prove it to you? Alright, fine, I will. ‘Cause I know a place I could take you, and there’s _guaranteed_ to be a guy in there that will hit on you, just as you are right now. No make-up, messy head, stuffy nose and all.” She scoffs at that. “I’m serious. Just let us get dressed real quick and we’ll take you out there. We can take my car.” 

She sighs. “Fine, I guess I’ll go,” she grumbles. “But this mystery guy of yours had better be there, and this had better not be for nothing.”

“Oh he’ll be there,” Brody assures, and when Steph’s not looking, he shoots me a wink.

Then he pulls out his phone to text someone.

Is he about to do what I _think_ he’s about to do?

*

So the three of us pile into Brody’s Cougar, and he takes us to this mystery location, which turns out to be Riders.

Even less of a surprise is the guy waiting inside to meet us.

Yes, to my amusement, we walk inside to see Sandy at the bar, wiping glasses, but true to Brody’s word, there is a man sitting on a bar stool who turns when he sees us, and who’s face lights up like a kid on Christmas when he sees my sister. Del grins from ear to ear at the sight of her, and suddenly the redness in her cheeks is not from crying. It’s from blushing profusely. “Well, well, if it ain’t the prettiest damned woman ever to exist,” he says to her as we approach.

Yep. Brody made the right call here. If there was anyone that would hit on Stephanie no matter what, even when she looks like shit, that person would definitely be Del. My sister could be wearing a burlap sack and be covered in mud and Del would still look at her like she’s a fucking super model, like there’s no other woman in the world. Which he totally does just then. That lustful gaze of his has not dimmed an ounce, despite how shabby her appearance is. 

“Decided to be lazy today, huh?” he asks her. “I see you ain’t all gussied up like ya usually are.”

She nods, brushing hair behind her ear. “Yeah I just…didn’t really feel like getting dressed up today, and it’s Saturday, so…” She shrugs a little. “So I’m kind of a mess right now.”

Del just chuckles, hardly offended. “Yeah I have days like that too,” he says.

“That’s you _every_ day,” Brody digs, smiling. “A fuckin’ mess.”

Without looking away from Steph, Del flips him the bird, making the both of us chuckle at him. 

But it’s like neither one of us even exist to these two for a moment, as Del gazes into her eyes, and she does the same, teeth clamping down hard on her bottom lip. And I notice something that I never paid attention to before. Del checks her out on occasion, of course, because he’s only human after all, but he also looks at her face with those puppy eyes. Not just her breasts or her butt, like other guys. Her _face_. Especially now that he’s not distracted by cleavage. 

You know what I think? I think Del seriously likes my sister, like, as in he doesn’t just want sex. Like, he actually wants to talk to her, get to know her. I think he might have caught some actual feelings for her. He stands up and shove his hands in his pockets.

“Hey Brody, look at that,” he says, bumping his shoulder. “She’s got freckles too.” But of course he adds, “They’re a helluva lot prettier on her though. No offence, Ash.”

“None taken,” I say. Stephanie’s smile only widens at the compliment. I don’t imagine her ever hiding her freckles with make-up ever again. He offers to buy her a drink, then entices her into a game of pool, leaving me and Brody to chat with Sandy at the bar until it starts filling up. I find the bartender’s backstory intriguing. Her father originally opened Riders back when the Pagans motorcycle club was first established, specifically with it being a hang-out spot for the club in mind.

He was a member too, but while Sandy kept the bar running after he passed away and left it to her, and allowed Pagans to continue their patronage and utilize the space for their weekly meetings, Sandy herself wasn’t affiliated with the club, meaning she was, in fact, not a biker bitch. Though just about every Pagan that walked through those doors had made the offer, Sandy was not keen on the idea of having an old man, or being somebody’s old lady, as they’re called.

As the evening progresses, the bar starts filling up with regular customers, Sandy turns on the stereo and starts blasting rock music and busies herself with making drinks, but all throughout Stephanie hangs around Del, the two of them talking and casually sipping their drinks. Eye-fucking each other the entire time too. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I ask Brody, gesturing to the two of them on the other side of the pool tables. “Told Del to meet us here?” He nods sheepishly.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he says. “Matter of fact, I’ve snapped at Del on more than one occasion to stop askin’ for her number, but…Well, he just really likes her, that’s all. And he really ain’t a bad guy, he’s just too much of a flirt, and I figured there are worst men for your sister to go out with. I just…thought maybe she could use a little boost of confidence.”

I smile at that. “Well, it certainly worked. Steph’s practically glowing.” And Del’s not the only one that’s taken notice of her. Other men check her out too, despite her looking like she just rolled out of bed, because it’s like Brody said, she’s beautiful even without make-up, especially when she smiles. And I’m not just biased because she’s my best friend and I love her, it’s the truth. “I should’ve known you were going to text Del,” I say, smirking. “Guaranteed to hit on her, you said.”

Brody chuckles. “I didn’t lie, did I,” he says and I laugh. 

He opted to be designated driver tonight, so he’s sipping a Coke while I guzzle down a beer. He looks incredible right now–but when does he not?–with his hair slicked back, and that tight form fitting black t-shirt with ripped sleeves that shows off his muscles, and some of his tattoos. I feel a little lackluster in comparison with my blue striped flannel and messy hair. But Brody doesn’t seem to care, and I get my own share of wanton looks when nobody’s paying attention to us.

I wish I could lean in and kiss him right now, but I know the likelihood of us starting trouble if we give any public displays of affection. There was a reason I usually stay away from places like this. But we have a good time regardless, and spend most of our time talking instead of groping one another, which is still nice. But another problem arises that night, as we sit at the bar and chat while across the room Del romances my sister, when a stranger that’s been checking her out sidles up to them.

Suddenly Brody and I are both on edge, my hand white knuckled on my beer bottle, and Brody’s slowly reaching in his pants pocket to grip his knife, as we sense a fight about to take place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theme Song: ["It's Only You"–Mikky Ekko](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=tWWZVjk8iF0&feature=share)
> 
> Want to check out the full Crybaby playlist on YouTube? [Find it here.](https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLgsKe1-pKLs_tKgbvcyHMVEDT3k2OzIBg)
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr for more delicious info on characters, and also yours truly: [lennysdiary.tumblr.com](https://lennysdiary.tumblr.com)


	24. Not A Chapter, But Important Update

So I recently hopped on the Discord bandwagon and found out it's not only a great place to chat about gaming and fan fiction, but just a great place to hang out in general, and I'm there more than on Tumblr these days. Though it's great for blogging and posting project updates, Tumblr just isn't the kind of place where it's easy to group chat with friends and share ideas.

I'm not deleting my Tumblr account, but yes I made a Discord channel for all things Lenny's Diary, and if you like Discord too, you can find me there. Feel free to join and hit me up. Ao3 is fucking awesome, but it's designed for our writing and not really a good place to chat with one another either. And I would absolutely love to talk with people and get to know them.

And don't worry, I will be updating my works soon. My writer's block has pleasantly lifted <3

<https://discord.gg/wVFt8Ke5YN>


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